The Runaway Asteroid
by Michael D. Cooper · English · Gutenberg #11583 · 371,390 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Runaway Asteroid
Author: Michael D. Cooper
Release date: March 1, 2004 [eBook #11583]
Most recently updated: October 30, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUNAWAY ASTEROID ***
Copyright (C) 2004 by David Baumann, Jon Cooper, and Mike Dodd.
THE RUNAWAY ASTEROID
THE STARMAN SERIES
by Michael D. Cooper
MUTINY ON MARS
THE RUNAWAY ASTEROID
JOURNEY TO THE TENTH PLANET
DESCENT INTO EUROPA
THE LOST RACE OF MARS
DOOMSDAY HORIZON
(The seventh book, THE STARLIGHT MANEUVER,
and other volumes are in preparation.)
The short stories—
The Flight of the Olympia,
The City of Dust,
SETI,
A Matter of Time,
and Return to Europa—
are available in the first five issues of the
Inter*Stellar, the fanzine for the Starman series.
A novelette outside the main storyline,
The Lost Tomorrow,
is serialized in “The Starman Chronicles.”
All items may be ordered through the
Starman web site at www.StarmanSeries.com.
David Foster Number Two
THE RUNAWAY ASTEROID
by Michael D. Cooper
Artwork by Nick Baumann
A David Foster Starman Adventure
Copyright (c) 2004
David Baumann, Jon Cooper, and Mike Dodd
all rights reserved
ABCDE “A Baumann-Cooper-Dodd Enterprise”
The Starman Team dedicates this book
to
Fred Woodworth
a rare and gifted individual who practices generosity in a world of
acquisitiveness, courage in a world of indifference, honesty in a
world of opportunism, and personal responsibility in a world of
buck-passing; an artist and craftsman few in this era know how to
appreciate; who has done as much as any and more than most to advance
the cause of series books; and whose genius has abundantly proven that
the books deplored by librarians of a previous age are treasures that
shaped several generations and made their readers better people. To
Fred Woodworth of Tucson, Arizona, the series book world owes a debt
that can never be repaid.
Acknowledgments
The Starman team wishes to thank
STEPHEN AVERY for coining the term “greegles.” Though these remarkable
beings will probably not reappear for several books, their place in the
Starman series is an essential part of the saga.
TOM NARWID, amateur astronomer, for supplying the photograph which we
used for the endpapers. The scene was taken through his backyard
telescope in Cottonwood, Arizona.
KEVIN ANETSBERGER for preparing Tom’s spectacular, multi-colored
original photograph for publication by reducing it to two colors.
The number of fans of the Starman series is growing each day, and we
appreciate the contributions many of them have made to the project.
Their assistance, encouragement, and technical support have helped to
improve the storyline and scientific accuracy of the Starman adventures.
Introduction
The Starman Team dedicated its first book, _Assault On Mars_, to Joseph
Greene, the late author of the Dig Allen series which was the
inspiration for the Starman series. A complimentary copy was sent to his
son Paul, who was moved by the tribute. We then asked Paul to write an
introduction to _The Runaway Asteroid_. The following is his
response--surely one of the most unusual introductions in any book
anywhere, and one we are privileged to share with our readers.
Dear Dad,
A most remarkable invention is weaving the world together in a way we
never anticipated while you were on Earth, and it netted your writing.
Fans of your books for juveniles, The Digby Allen series, were able to
connect to each other, share their enthusiasm for your novels, and were
inspired to continue the voyage. Led by Jonathan Cooper, the intrepid
mastermind of the creative crew, they made a commitment to write their
own vision of the future. Thoughtfully, they credit you as having
shoulders broad enough for them to stand on and see the centuries
beyond. The invention that has made this possible is called the
internet. There seems no need to explain what it is here, but part of
its magic is that it can permit people to connect to each other
independently of time and space.
The themes of Dig Allen from the 1960’s have worked like the internet in
that they functioned independently of time and space, only much more
slowly. You presented your ideas in books as ideas are posted on the
internet. The authors of Starman were drawn to the themes in your books
and then each other in cyberspace, which acts as both the bookshelf and
café for today’s ideas and authors. The creators of Starman saw value in
your stories and tried to get the publisher to renew the series. Sadly,
your old publisher ignored them and blocked the revival, as though they
were so much space junk.
No one owns a theme. But the creators of Starman have shown that they
share some of the beliefs that you express in your subjects. Their young
men of the stars prove that they too are brave, adventurous and willing
to sacrifice for freedom and justice. With a loyalty toward each other
that would create envy in every generation, they test themselves against
cunning scoundrels. As they conquer villains, they, and we along with
them, learn whether they measure up. Will they prove themselves worthy
as young people have done for all time? Young readers can have a chance
to preview something about their own lives and the world they will live
in. And just as you believed, somehow the human race survives. If the
world of Starman is an accurate guess on the future, then the good guys,
the ones in the white spacesuits, will continue to prevail and produce
more young people to keep the dream alive. I hope that some of the next
generation of courageous young people will read this series.
Your fans don’t know that you started writing seriously relatively early
in life, in the 1920’s and ’30’s, first as a teen for your personal
pleasure and then on your school newspaper at New Utrecht High School in
Brooklyn, New York. Did having to learn the English language after
speaking Russian until the age of seven help you become a better writer?
Were your poems and letters to Mom valuable both to her and to your
professional development? Did the comic books you authored during the
Golden Age of comics give you a better sense of story-telling and
dialogue or did it degrade your love of language? I know that writing
television scripts and other creative projects supported the family
during the difficult years of the 1950’s, but how did it affect your
later work with Digby Allen? So many of your themes are repeated and
reworked in several of your creations right through to the late 1980’s.
Who would guess that you once wrote a paper on the use of the raven in
several of Shakespeare’s plays? Or that you wrote biology text to
accompany a new medium, slides made from strips of 35-mm film? Would
admirers realize that you were most interested in world events, but read
the sports section of the New York Times first, everyday? I’m certain
your fans wouldn’t have read the American Elsewhen Almanac, a
compilation of bits of Americana and commentary that you published in
the 1980’s.
I want to thank the authors of Starman for giving me the opportunity to
write the introduction to their second novel. If there is a way to
communicate to you across the veil between our dimensional world and the
one in which you now reside, then it must be through the pages of a
book. After the love of family, I don’t believe anything was more
precious to you than books, so maybe this letter will be able to cross
the divide. Just as I proofread the drafts of Digby Allen before you
sent them to the publisher, your granddaughter and grandson proofread
this. Perhaps that will act like a mystical booster rocket to get these
pages to you.
And to future space pioneers, may the solar winds be at your back.
Love,
Paul
October 20, 2000
THE RUNAWAY ASTEROID
1: Controlled Fury
“THEY’RE getting closer! They’re almost on us! We won’t make it into the
Belt on time!” The navigator of the _Silver Spear_ was on the verge of
panic. His frenzied hands moved over the controls.
“Keep going! Keep up full speed! Make sure that we get there ahead of
them!” Lurton Zimbardo’s voice was even and controlled, but it was
obvious that he was barely containing his volatile fury. His commands
were not to be questioned. His nostrils flared, the muscles around his
lips were taut, he kept his fists clenched and pounded a persistent
rhythm on his ship’s control panel. His breath sounded as if he could
inhale and exhale the room’s entire atmosphere. It was only his iron
self-control that kept his crew from giving in to their fears.
Behind them just moments away Starman David “Zip” Foster’s ship, the
_Star Ranger_, was closing the gap. The pursuit had been going on for
two days, since the _Silver Spear_ had blasted off from Eagle City on
Mars and escaped while the rest of the pirates were rounded up by
Earth’s forces. Zip Foster, accompanied by Starmen Mark Seaton and Joe
Taylor and their companion Steve Cliff, had followed less than fifteen
minutes later. The brief lead that Lurton Zimbardo’s ship had was enough
to keep the _Silver Spear_ out of the clutches of their pursuers, but
not by much. The crew of the _Spear_ was suffering acutely from
sleeplessness and mounting anxiety.
Only days earlier, Lurton Zimbardo had been second-in-command under Troy
Putnam. Together they had organized over 500 men and attempted to take
control of the capital city of Mars in a sudden attack. Had they
succeeded, the pirates could have held the people of the Earth-Moon
system hostage to their demands. The Starmen and their allies had
thwarted the pirates’ plan. Most of the pirates, including their leader,
had been captured. Zimbardo, however, had escaped with a few others.
With the Starmen in close pursuit, he was desperately trying to outrun
them and return to the pirates’ base in the Asteroid Belt.
The Belt loomed up. The first few chunks of rock were visible now to the
unaided eyes of those on the deck of the _Silver Spear_. In seconds,
they were among them. The navigator screamed as the ship whipped by a
pitted rock a quarter of a mile long, missing it by a few yards.
“Fool!” shouted Zimbardo. “Turn on the automatic pilot!” The navigator’s
eyes were the size of saucers. Immobile with terror, he didn’t respond
to Zimbardo’s command. The former second-in-command of the pirates
pushed him out of the chair, took over, and activated the switch that
cut in the automatic pilot. Lurton Zimbardo was not physically imposing,
but more than made up for his slight build with an immensely strong will
and a decisive nature that was merciless whenever it served him.
He knew they were going too fast even for the automatic pilot to keep
the ship safe once they entered the thick sweep of the asteroids. He
also knew that the Belt was their only hope of escaping the Starmen on
their trail. Powered by adrenaline, his senses were functioning at their
peak. With amazing alacrity and intensity, Zimbardo aided the automatic
pilot and threaded the _Silver Spear_ through the weaving asteroids. It
almost seemed as if he were in a trance.
Soon a dark asteroid loomed ahead, roughly shaped like a potato,
forty-five miles long and twenty-five wide, rotating slowly around its
longest axis. It was nearly invisible both to the eye and to the
instruments, but Zimbardo knew where it was. He barked out a command.
The _Silver Spear_ slowed quickly, and moments later a huge airlock door
opened in one of the poles of the asteroid. Zimbardo piloted the ship
into the airlock, through the stone tunnel that led into the interior of
the asteroid, and then touched down.
The thin, wiry man raced for the control room as fast as he could run,
pushing men out of the way and heeding no one who called out to him.
Once inside, he quickly pressed a series of buttons and entered a
numeric code. Once it was entered and confirmed, he made a fist and
slammed it hard on a large red button. Immediately all the radar screens
were covered with snow.
Zimbardo relaxed for the first time in days. He exhaled quietly and
actually smiled. He took a deep breath and smiled more broadly.
“Sir?” asked one of the technicians who had watched the procedure.
“I detonated a hydrogen bomb on a neighboring asteroid a couple of
hundred miles from here. Part of a backup plan for keeping this place
hidden. It will clog all radar screens for a few minutes. By the time
they clear, no one will be able to find us or this asteroid.”
Zimbardo’s relaxed state did not last long. He swelled up with energy
again, strode to another console, and tapped in a series of commands.
“Come here, Gene,” he ordered as his fingers flew over the keyboard. The
man he addressed quickly came to stand by the pirate leader. He was a
well-built young man in his late twenties with short curly brown hair,
finely chiseled features, and an obvious desire to please. He was well
trained in the technology of space control systems. After he had proven
his competence in the field, Troy Putnam had made him his chief control
officer.
Zimbardo continued. “Follow these coordinates at this speed. Don’t alter
the course for any reason without my permission.”
Gene looked at the planning board where the numbers were posted in a
pleasant green light. “That course will take us out of the Belt, Mr.
Zimbardo. Is that what you want?”
“That’s what I want. It’s time to move away from here. If anything out
of the ordinary happens, let me know immediately. Find me by using my
personal code on the communicator--no general announcement. Keep watch
especially for any spacecraft--especially _any_ spacecraft!”
“Yes sir!” Gene took his place and the others returned to their duties.
Once he saw that the crew members were well settled, he picked up the
intercom and ordered his leaders to assemble in a meeting room in five
minutes. From the few dozen pirates left, he had hand-selected five
competent leaders to be his lieutenants: Gebbeth, Crass, Lather,
Bolcher, and Slant.
In less than that time, Lurton Zimbardo was sitting at a table with the
five other men. All but Zimbardo looked haggard. The pirates were
demoralized and upset. Victory on Mars and beyond had been within their
grasp, but it had all been blundered away. A band of several hundred men
who had planned and worked for several years had been reduced to a few
dozen. Their dreams of power and prominence, shaped and fueled by their
captain Troy Putnam, had been utterly destroyed. Now Putnam was in
custody on Mars, along with the rest of the pirates who had been
captured by Earth’s forces.
“Troy Putnam was a fool,” Zimbardo announced in a quiet voice edged with
steel. “His plan might have worked--_might_ have worked, if I had had
more part in planning--but he was no more than a conceited ignoramus!
The Starmen walked in on him and took him completely by surprise! I can
just imagine how his face must have looked as he realized his plan was
over and he was led off to jail. A fool! We are better off without him!”
“Better off without him?” asked one man in a dull voice. “What do you
mean, Lurton? Better off for what?”
“Don’t be a fool yourself, Crass!” Zimbardo sneered. “You think we’re
finished here? We will still get what we want and it won’t be very
difficult! We don’t need Putnam and we don’t need a few hundred men,
either! You can be thankful you’re here instead of locked in a stone
room in Eagle City eating square, plain, healthy meals off of a metal
tray! The collapse of Putnam’s big dream is the best thing that could
have happened for us!”
A muscular, unsmiling man on Zimbardo’s right swung his gaze to the
speaker. “It sounds as if you have a plan, Mr. Zimbardo.” The man was in
his early thirties and resembled a street fighter. His carefully combed
dark hair made him look almost strikingly handsome, but his eyes were
black and humorless.
Zimbardo turned toward the man. “Yes, I have a plan. You, Gebbeth, will
be my chief assistant and the pilot of the _Tartarus_, my personal ship.
I can depend on you. Space Command’s celebration on Mars will be
extremely short-lived.”
“You were always the strong one, Lurton,” said another. “I kind of
always figured you for the real leader, and I always wished it was you
instead of Putnam.”
“Now you got your wish, Bolcher. I’ve taken charge. I’m moving this
asteroid out of its orbit into a place outside the Belt. Here’s my
plan.”
Almost an hour later, the men left the meeting room, smiling, joking,
and stepping lightly. Their fatigue was gone, their discouragement
forgotten.
Lurton Zimbardo was the last to leave. Now that things were moving in
the direction he wanted, he allowed his fatigue to take over. Encouraged
by the support of his assistants, he felt he could rest at last. He
walked down the halls, past various doors and entered an elevator. The
display screen offered only the few floors in use by the pirates but
Zimbardo had another destination in mind. Alone in the elevator, he
punched in a special code which only he knew. When the proper sequence
was displayed, he pressed “Enter.” As the elevator began to move, the
new leader of the pirates relaxed even further. The others would not
know where he was, and he would be undisturbed.
He could barely sense the elevator’s motion. He didn’t know how far into
the asteroid’s interior he was moving, but he knew what he would find
when he reached his destination. The door opened and Zimbardo stepped
out. A quick walk down a short corridor brought him to a double door.
Embossed on the doors was a huge, rich, golden symbol--a lush planet
with about 80% blue oceans, a few continents, and thick cloud cover.
Three small moons were arranged at the upper left, set at the points of
an equilateral triangle. Zimbardo had been intrigued by the design when
he’d first found it, but now he hastened through the doors without
noticing it. He was eager to get into the Chamber beyond.
As Lurton stepped into the room, he gasped. His dozen prior visits still
had not taken the surprise out of the room. Each time he stepped into
the Chamber he seemed to be setting foot into another world; he knew he
was still inside the asteroid but his senses told him otherwise.
Lurton seemed to be standing on a high mountain overlooking a vast plain
on some forgotten planet. A pale blue sky was overhead and a light wind
was blowing. Down below on the plain he saw a river snaking its way
through a green forest; if he listened carefully he could hear the
water. In the distance he saw a fantastic alien metropolis of beautiful
glass skyscrapers; he could just barely make out ships hovering over it
and small vehicles driving around in the distance. Clouds sailed gently
overhead; it was near dusk.
He knew that the room was actually no more than about a hundred feet
square, but the display was seamless. For all the world he seemed to be
standing on another planet on a late, peaceful afternoon. He had never
been able to find out how the room worked or where the wind came from,
but he suspected the display was generated by some sort of holographic
projectors far in advance of anything he had ever seen or heard of.
Lurton guessed that the scene was from the home planet of the asteroid’s
builders; perhaps the distant city was their capital. He had spent hours
watching the room and never tired of it, for the scene always changed.
After a certain number of hours dusk fell and the city lights came on.
He had watched different kinds of weather and seen glorious sunsets and
sunrises. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of a huge alien starship. He
had seen many strange things in the Chamber and he was sure that he had
not seen them all.
Lurton liked coming here when he was upset or annoyed; the room had a
peaceful air that rested and soothed him. He was certainly in need of
that now. He hadn’t slept in over fifty hours and could easily have lain
down in what seemed like soft turf and fallen deeply asleep, but the
ethereal beauty of the Chamber’s vision was restful and he didn’t want
to close his eyes for an instant while he was inside.
He thought back to the day when he’d found the room. The asteroid had
been drifting and uninhabited for who knows how many thousands of years
when a solitary asteroid miner had found it and discovered that it was
hollow. He had told a few others about his find and eventually Troy
Putnam learned of it. Zimbardo grudgingly admitted to himself that Troy
was a genius--a weak, impractical genius, but a genius nonetheless.
Putnam had found the miner and persuaded him to bring him to the
nearly-invisible asteroid. He had even learned how to use many of the
asteroid’s capabilities, and then had made it the base for his foolish
attempt to take over Mars.
Shortly after the pirates had taken residence, Troy Putnam had directed
Lurton to explore the asteroid beyond the few floors the pirates used
and find out everything he could about it. It was a trying assignment.
The first few floors comprised a connected unit and the elevator codes
were easy to learn. Moving anywhere else was a matter of trial and
error, and the access codes were complex.
One day Zimbardo had found the Chamber. There was very little that could
arouse any kind of sensitivity in the wiry, energetic man, but the
Chamber could do so. Maybe it was because no one else knew about it and
no one could see him wrapped in the depths of the emotions the room
could inspire. The Chamber was not the only secret of the asteroid which
Lurton had retained for himself, but it was certainly the best one.
At last the peace and enchantment of the Chamber overcame Lurton’s
resistance to slumber. He sat down and rested with his back against a
tree, gazing over the landscape at the alien city. The massive trunk was
slightly rough but not uncomfortable. Huge roots spread out in all
directions before disappearing into the grassy soil. Branches laden with
broad leaves made a shadow-filled canopy over the pirate leader.
As he felt sleep coming on, he fumed one more time at the Starmen and
the stupidity of Troy Putnam. He mulled over his plan and smiled a
little. The Starmen would live to regret what they had done to him. His
eyes closed and his breathing became deep and regular. At last the
pirates’ new leader slept.
Above him a few birds chirped peacefully. A short distance away a brook
murmured in lyric gentleness. The sky over the city gradually turned
from flawless blue through lavender into violet, and silver stars
emerged.
2: Sent to Ceres
THE SPLENDOR of the Asteroid Belt stretched away in all directions, and
the piercing light of uncountable stars filled the background. Such a
view was possible only in airless space. Starman David Foster was
staring out of the window of his ship, the _Star Ranger_, but he was not
really seeing anything. His brow was furrowed with an uneasy doubt.
“Still no sign of ’em, Zip,” announced Joe Taylor. The lanky six-footer
had eased naturally into the position of pilot under David’s direction.
Joe had flown everything from ancient biplanes to interplanetary
rockets. He understood the principles of propulsion and flight, and with
amazing facility could learn to fly almost any vehicle designed for
traveling through an atmosphere or the vacuum of space.
Mark Seaton had naturally become the navigator and engine master of the
Starman crew. He specialized in engines and large, complex machinery. He
had always had a talent for understanding machines, and he knew the
workings of the average rocket from stem to stern.
David Foster, like all Starmen, was able to navigate and fly his own
ship, but had a specialty in Deep Space exploration and survival skills.
Whenever he was faced with a problem, he could think it through and come
up with a solution with the equipment available. He was a natural
leader. He excelled at organization and decision-making, and Joe and
Mark were glad to be a part of the Starman team under Zip’s leadership.
Joe continued to relate his observations. “I’ve scanned as far as the
instruments can reach, and there’s just nothing out there in any
direction--except the Earth ships, of course. They should be here in
about three hours.”
“No debris?”
“No, Zip. I’ve found where the explosion took place and examined that
more carefully than any other area. It was a violent blow. I think about
a third of an asteroid was turned into dust when it went off, and that’s
powerful enough to vaporize any ship that was carrying a weapon with
that kind of potential.”
Zip shook his head as if warding off a buzzing insect. “All right.
Nothing we can do about it.” He turned to the third Starman on the crew.
“Mark,” he called out. “Would you send a report to Mars please and ask
Commander De Koven what he wants us to do?”
“Okay, Zip.”
Mark prepared the message and sent it off. The response would come
through after a delay of several minutes. As they waited, Joe said, “You
seem uneasy, Zip. What’s there to worry about?”
“I just like completion. That ship we were chasing carried the last of
the pirates from Mars, and I’d just feel a lot better if there were some
debris, some evidence that they hadn’t escaped.”
“Zip,” came a deep voice from the lounge next to the flight deck,
“there’s a lot of uncertainties in life, ’specially life in space. I
been around a lot and believe me, the exception is when you really know
everything that happened--and that’s never.”
“Sure, Steve,” answered Zip, raising his voice. “I know. But I don’t
like it.”
“You’ll probably be uneasy most of your life then. C’mon, be like me.
Lie down, relax, take a nap. You’ve been rushing for days now,
especially the last couple when we were shooting through the void at top
speed. Give it up now, boy. You can’t do anything more.”
Zip didn’t answer, but he walked into the lounge. Steve Cliff was
completely relaxed, with his feet propped on a table. His huge frame was
sunk into the sofa deeper than Zip would have thought possible. Zip
picked up a book that Mark had been reading, and lay down. In less than
a minute, he was asleep with the open book face down on his chest.
* * * * *
“Up you go, Zip, it’s dinnertime.” Steve’s normally boisterous voice was
gentle and almost subdued. Zip took a deep breath and slowly opened his
eyes. He sat up, put the book aside and ran his hands through his red
hair.
“What’s going on?”
“You’ve been out almost four hours. Figured I’d make myself useful so I
whipped up some food. Here you go.” Steve set a tray down on the nearby
table. There were mashed potatoes, salad heavy on diced tomatoes just
the way Zip liked it, and a few pieces of very thinly sliced roast beef
in a luscious brown gravy.
“Looks delicious, Steve; thanks.”
“Coffee’s coming up in a minute, steaming hot with half a teaspoon of
sugar.” Zip reflected for a moment about how little time he had known
Steve and how well he fit in to the group of three Starmen. Steve
already knew how he liked his coffee--hot and fresh--and what his
favorite meal was. While he was enjoying the aroma of the meal before
tucking into it, Steve brought in the coffee.
Zip lifted a mouthful of roast beef and potatoes. “What’s going on?” he
repeated.
“Mark got hold of the big guys in Eagle City, told ’em what was going on
out here. They told us to wait until the Earth forces showed up and then
get on back to Mars. We’ve been under way almost an hour.” Zip nodded.
“Mark says there’s more and wants to talk to you whenever you’re ready.”
“Send him in.”
Mark came in as Zip put a fork into a chunk of tomato and lifted it out
of the bowl, dripping with dressing. “This really is delicious, Steve!”
he called out as Steve disappeared onto the flight deck, leaving the two
Starmen to themselves.
“Steve told you we’re on our way back to Mars, I’m sure,” said Mark by
way of preamble. Zip nodded. “Commander De Koven also said that we are
to report directly to Mars Base. We drop Steve off at Eagle City and go
right on to the Base without getting out of the ship.” Mars Base was
Starlight Enterprise’s headquarters on Mars. It was a huge plant,
covering several thousand acres of Martian desert near the north pole
and far from any other settlement.
“What’s up?” Zip’s gray eyes peered over the rim of the coffee mug as he
took a swallow.
“There’s no danger of further attack on Mars--everything seems to be
secure in Eagle City--but we’re to be given an assignment with a
‘significant time factor,’ as the Commander put it. Too sensitive to put
out over the radio even with scramblers and tight beam.”
“They must’ve learned something from the pirates they captured.”
Joe peeked around the corner. “No--I think they’re going to give us a
medal and a month off for liberating Eagle City!”
* * * * *
Two days later, the _Star Ranger_ was cruising at a good clip a few
miles above the Martian desert. Eagle City was behind them, and the
course was set almost due north. Mark was reminiscing about the parting
with Steve.
“Don’t worry about a thing, boys--I’ll make sure the little folk get
back to the Moon safely enough.” Steve was referring to Jack and Jill,
the diminutive citizens of Titan who had played a critical role in
rescuing Eagle City from the pirates during their assault on Mars.
Mark felt very badly that he hadn’t been able to see the Titanians. Four
days before, they had left Mars without notice to begin the frantic
chase of the escaping pirates, and now they were urgently called to Mars
Base with no time permitted to see their friends. Personal relationships
were important to Mark. As the _Star Ranger_ returned to Mars from the
Asteroid Belt, he had made a recorded greeting and farewell for Jack and
Jill and entrusted it to Steve. Mark was beginning to realize that for
him, the life of a Starman would be marked with frequent partings and
sorrows.
The always-ebullient Joe did not seem to be affected. “Don’t worry about
it, we’ll see them again. They’ll understand. Right now we’re off on
another adventure!”
As the _Star Ranger_ approached the pole, Mark shifted his mood and
hoped that Joe would be right.
“Oooh, yes! Look at that!” exulted Joe, pointing out of the front of the
ship. A light came over the horizon like a flame too bright to be looked
at comfortably. The sun was reflecting off the glass-sheathed buildings
of Mars Base, Starlight Enterprise’s primary headquarters on the fourth
planet.
As the _Star Ranger_ rapidly closed the distance, Mark radioed for
landing clearance.
“Gorgeous!” said Joe. From the pilot’s seat he could make out the
airport, the hangar, the sprawling laboratory and research buildings and
the manufacturing centers. Men, robots, and machines scurried around the
plant. Security was very high; ever since the pirate attack SE had
redoubled its efforts to keep out unauthorized personnel. This was the
area from which Starlight Enterprise conducted its Martian operations.
Immediately after landing, the Starmen were brought into a spacious
office. As they entered, a clean-shaven man with a rather long crew cut
looked up.
“Mr. Konig!” exclaimed Zip as he led the little parade into the central
portion of the complex. “I sure didn’t expect to see you here!” Konig
was in charge of security throughout the entire SE system.
“Welcome to the Base, Starmen!” Konig stood up and came around his desk
to greet each of them with a warm, two-handed handshake. He was a genial
man, large but by no means overweight, very strong, firm, and of almost
regal bearing. He gave the impression of being always available and
affable, but never to be taken for granted.
“Sit down,” he continued. “What I have to say is of vital importance and
I’m afraid we don’t have time to do more than get you briefed on the
situation. I can’t even take the time to commend you for the outstanding
work you did against the pirates. Richard is busting with pride over his
newest Starmen! I can’t say I blame him--you did marvelous work! You
three are wanted on Earth for some special recognition, but
unfortunately we have a brief mission for you first.”
“Richard” was Richard Starlight, the head of Starlight Enterprise who
had entrusted Mark and Joe with their Martian assignment.
“Thank you, Mr. Konig,” responded Zip simply.
“The pirates only had a few men placed here at the Base, but they were
enough to shut down operations for the few days they needed to paralyze
Eagle City. Frankly, it was a surprise for us and Richard wanted me to
take personal charge of security on Mars until it was quite clear that
the threat was past. Actually, I flew in with the invasion fleet. My
most important assignment here is to set up a secret base for Starlight
Enterprise, which will be a backup and defense unit prepared for any
events such as the one we’ve just experienced.”
“A secret base?”
“Yes. I’ll be looking for the best site, recruiting the right people to
man it, and drawing up plans for construction and the tasks it will have
to perform. I don’t need to tell you that the project is highly
confidential. I’m only telling you about it because you’re Starmen, and
it will be a resource you’ll need to become familiar with. Of course,
there will be much more information coming your way later.”
Oritz Konig spoke cleanly and clearly, but gave the [DB1]impression that
his thoughts were racing faster than he could speak. He had had to
discipline himself to speak so that others could follow him. There were
few wasted words when he had to get a message across, but he was able to
converse in a way that assured his listeners that he valued them as
people and needed their cooperation. Konig manifested an extremely rare
combination of being a “people person” as well as having a supremely
disciplined and task-oriented mind.
“We interrogated the pirates while you were in the Asteroid Belt. We
started with Troy Putnam, of course, but he won’t say a word. He’s got a
strange kind of strength to him--genial in a lot of ways, but utterly
inflexible and unbreakable when he doesn’t want to cooperate.
“We questioned other pirate leaders, too, of course, and a lot of the
rank and file. Not all of them cooperated, but enough did that we
learned that they have a base in the Belt. It’s no ordinary base. Most
of the pirates don’t know its origin but they can describe what it looks
like.
“It’s a fairly good-sized chunk of hard stone, mostly iron. It’s hollow,
and the base is inside. The access port is concealed. More to the point,
it cannot be detected by radar.
“Some of the toughest of the pirates sneered that we’d never find
it--that it couldn’t be seen even if you were right on top of it.”
Joe jumped in. “But sir, this technology is not new. There have been
craft since the late twentieth century that were invisible to radar.
There are other ways to find them--gravitational influences, to name
one.”
“Of course, Starman Taylor. This asteroid, however, appears to be the
work of some advanced race, other than Earth. The pirates didn’t create
it--they took it over. Its sheathing system is highly effective, highly
effective indeed. The pirates could be lying, of course, but once the
word got out to them that we knew about the asteroid, most of them
seemed to swell with a kind of arrogant pride, even welcoming the fact
that we had the information. They were confident that we couldn’t do
anything about it.”
“And that explains, I’m sure, why we couldn’t find them in spite of an
exceedingly thorough search of the area,” concluded David Foster,
feeling somewhat vindicated.
“So are we to go find the asteroid?” put forth Joe, leaning forward in
his chair.
“No, Mr. Taylor. We want you to find the man who discovered it.”
Joe leaned back into his chair, a puzzled look on his face. Oritz Konig
continued.
“The asteroid was discovered almost twenty years ago by an asteroid
miner named George St. George. He’s a loner, like so many of the
asteroid miners. He makes a good living, but has no fixed address. He’s
constantly on the move and spends most of his time away from settlements
in the Belt. He’ll disappear for months, maybe a year or two--then show
up on Ceres or in Eagle City with what he has found in the Belt and turn
it into cash and supplies. Then he’s gone again.
“Apparently he discovered this remarkable asteroid the pirates took
over. He’s a trusting, almost naïve, decent man. He spoke unguardedly
about his find at one time and Troy Putnam learned about it. Putnam had
St. George take him to the asteroid and paid him a good price for the
knowledge. St. George showed Putnam where it was, and then disappeared
into the Belt. Putnam went on to build his empire of pirates.”
“And now you want us to find St. George so he can show us where the
asteroid is,” inferred Zip.
“It’s not that simple, Starman. We’ve also learned that the pirates who
escaped are the most dangerous of the lot. Their leader is a very bad
number named Lurton Zimbardo. The pirates were willing to obey Troy
Putnam because he encouraged them. They liked him. He was a charismatic
leader who gave them visions of grandeur and made them think that they
could pull off the impossible. But they are afraid of Zimbardo--for good
reason, from what we hear. He is a merciless, calculating spaceman,
patiently willing to play second-in-command to Putnam while waiting for
his chance to take over. That chance has now come.
“The pirates are greatly reduced in number now, but those who are left
are extremely dangerous. They will be fierce, uncompromising enemies.
St. George is the only person outside of the pirates who knows where the
asteroid is, how to find it, and has some knowledge of how it works.
Where Putnam was willing to let St. George go about his business,
Zimbardo will certainly determine to eliminate him. Zimbardo will try
hard to find St. George. You must find him first. Protect him, and learn
from him where the asteroid is.”
“What do we know about him? How can he be found?” asked Zip.
“He hasn’t been heard from for over a year, and he could be anywhere in
the Belt. But he has a friend named Montezuma Vly. If anyone knows where
St. George is, Vly will know--and we know where Vly is.”
“Why not just ask Vly where St. George is?” asked Mark.
“That’s where your assignment begins,” answered Konig. “Like St. George,
Montezuma Vly is an asteroid miner. Unlike St. George, he doesn’t wander
far from his home. But Vly has a deep distrust of any authority figures.
He lives on an asteroid he calls Montezuma’s Castle. He claimed it over
thirty years ago and enjoys his privacy. No government officials have
any right to enter his domain. He is completely independent. We’re
hoping that where officialdom can’t act, you young Starmen can. When he
knows that George St. George is at risk, I’m sure he’ll help you.”
“Where do we find Montezuma Vly?” asked Mark, who was the navigator for
the trio of Starmen.
“Montezuma’s Castle is not far from Ceres. You can get to Vly in less
than a day from Yellow City.” Yellow City was the major center on Ceres,
the largest and most important asteroid in the system, with a population
of around 100,000. It doubled as a spaceport, and was a stopping-over
and refueling point on the long voyage between the Inner and Outer
Planets.
“Go to Ceres first and check in there. Since the pirates will be
searching for St. George, you’ll have to conduct your search
quietly--using the _Star Ranger_ and wearing Starman’s red uniforms
won’t do on this assignment. You’ll need to change ships and clothes in
Yellow City. The rest of the information you’ll need will be provided
for you in files which you can read as you travel.”
* * * * *
Lurton Zimbardo called his five most trusted leaders to a meeting in one
of the libraries on the pirates’ asteroid. Each was dressed in the gray
and black uniform that Troy Putnam had designed for the pirates for
their failed mission to take over Mars. The meeting had been going on
for several hours and had involved a lot of detailed organizational
work. The men were tired and showing it. As usual, Zimbardo showed no
signs of fatigue.
“Yes, gentlemen,” said Zimbardo, “You know what to do now. We will need
to get all of our men busy and you must drive them, drive them
relentlessly! I don’t want to take any longer on this work than we need
to. We’ve been moving slowly out of the Asteroid Belt for almost three
days.”
His laser pointer made a few small red circles on a chart in the
library. “This is where we were, and this is where we’re going to be.”
The chart was nearly a full wall of smooth quartz, illumined from the
inside and showing the nearby configuration of asteroids.
The table was strewn with large books opened to star maps, note pads, a
couple of small computers and calculating machines, and a huge number of
crumpled balls of paper. One man reached for a pitcher of water that was
on the table and slowly filled his glass. Zimbardo continued.
“The manufacturing will begin tomorrow--that’ll be for Stubb to oversee.
Once the sheathing device has proven effective we can begin work on
restoring and disguising our fleet. After that, Crass, you’ll take care
of the rest.”
One of the men looked up. “What about St. George? If anyone discovers
him he could put a serious crimp in our plans.”
Zimbardo looked annoyed. “St. George will be dealt with, Mr. Slant. I
have not forgotten him; you can leave that to me. He will never speak to
the Starmen or anyone else.”
Another spoke. “Is it really necessary to silence him? It will take a
large number of men to make a search--men we could use on the urgent
projects at hand. Since you’ve moved the asteroid from its original
site, he can’t find us now or show anyone else how to find us.”
“He can’t find us, but he knows how this asteroid works--almost as well
as I do. If the Starmen learn what he knows, it could be disastrous for
us in the unlikely chance that they ever locate us. I don’t like taking
chances, and I don’t like leaving any loose ends. St. George is a loose
end we can’t afford.”
“Do you know where to find him? He doesn’t have any fixed place he calls
home.”
“Our men have quietly inquired for him on Ceres and learned that he has
a good friend, another asteroid miner named Montezuma Vly. We know where
Vly lives, and Vly will know where St. George is. Vly doesn’t receive
visitors, but his resistance won’t keep a small fleet from landing. One
way or another, Vly will tell us where to find George St. George--and
soon.”
3: Montezuma’s Castle
A FEW DAYS later, Lurton Zimbardo decided to take a tour of the
workshops and check on progress. Where Troy Putnam’s organization had
been large, easy-going, and confident, Zimbardo’s was tight,
highly-organized, and ruthless. Its high degree of efficiency was
dependent almost exclusively on Zimbardo himself. Once Zimbardo had
asserted his control over the organization, the asteroid and its crew
had rapidly become an extension of his formidable personality.
He took an elevator from his suite down to the main floor of the
organizational complex and stepped out into the hallway. He walked with
a firm tread, and men stepped aside with a slight deferential bow. He
passed through the great glass doors at the end of the passage into a
huge foyer. Passing through, he entered a courtyard, strode across it,
and came into the working area.
About sixty men were working at various stations. The men felt that
Zimbardo was a real leader and were glad to see their new commander. It
was amazing how rapidly the sense of defeat had been changed to one of
expectancy and pride.
Every day or two another ship docked and new workers came in to join the
crew. Zimbardo had sent out a few trusted leaders to recruit men form
noted asteroid bases and mining operations in the proximity of his
asteroid. He could use more men, especially skilled workers in
electronics and mathematics, but he wasn’t eager to build up a large
force. He chose carefully. The workforce was being built up gradually
with men he could trust. He had also invited three smugglers he had
known before to join the operation, with their men.
“Stubb,” called out Zimbardo.
“Sir,” responded the man so addressed, an eager man about thirty years
old, with sandy blond hair and baby blue eyes. He hastened up to the
pirate leader.
“Give me a status report. The ships first.”
“The sheathing systems are easy to manufacture, thanks to the ample
supplies from the warehouses. The men are able to put them together
rapidly, even the unskilled workers, since they just need a master
circuit to copy. I have forty men working on these, with the skilled
electricians checking each plate. As you know, we completed work on ten
ships six days ago; they were tested and went out on their assignments.
They have not returned yet. These plates we’re working on now are going
on the remaining ships, and we have already finished work on four of
them. That leaves just three to go, including the ship that just joined
the crew yesterday. We should be finished by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Good. And the power units?”
“These are far more complicated, sir, so I only have the most skilled
workers assembling these. The same with the propulsion units. They won’t
be ready for at least a week, not even one of them. However, once we get
the prototype finished the rest should follow rapidly.”
“How long until you have all 85 completed?”
“I should have a good number of the unskilled workers ready for a new
assignment once they have finished with the sheathing plates. Once the
design has been checked by the experts, we can get them cracking on the
power and propulsion units. Of course, each unit will have to be tested
by the experts, so I would estimate that all 85 can be operational
within ten days--unless we run into any problems.”
“Good work, Mr. Stubb. I will check on progress every day.”
“Very well, sir.” The man went back to work and Zimbardo returned to the
main complex.
* * * * *
Ceres was the hub of the Asteroid Belt. Nearly 600 miles across, it was
the largest body in the ring of planetary debris that swirled and turned
in a large swath between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. It was the
place where professional miners first arrived from Earth before their
companies farmed them out to the mining centers on various asteroids.
Independent asteroid miners came to Ceres once in a while for supplies,
and corporations picked up equipment imported daily from Mars. Ceres,
located several days’ travel from the nearest sizable population center,
was a buzz of activity.
The _Star Ranger_ approached the large asteroid after a fast but
uneventful journey of six days.
“Quite a cloud of starships!” remarked Joe as Yellow City came into
view. A swarm of at least forty ships of an amazing variety of sizes,
shapes, and vintages was moving over the port. Some were hovering,
others were heading in toward the landing field and a few others were
departing. None moved very fast since the space was as crowded as bees
around a hive.
Yellow City was a well planned settlement, in spite of having been
developed jointly by several different mining companies. Although the
competition was fierce for the rich minerals of the Belt, cooperation
was necessary to build the city, especially in the earliest years of
settlement. The result was beneficial to all, as Yellow City could
easily supply the needs of miners of all kinds as well as serve the
traffic to the Outer Planets that almost always came by way of Ceres.
Advancements in propulsion systems were making it possible for some of
the newer ships to bypass Yellow City on their way to Jupiter and
beyond, but Ceres was still a major stopping point.
Zip spoke quietly to Mark. “Mark, please let them know that we would
like to land.”
Mark opened the microphone. “Starman Mark Seaton on the starship Star
Ranger requesting permission to land.”
The response was immediate. “Yes sir, Starman! Ceres is proud to welcome
you!” The operator went on to give directions for landing.
“Why is he so deferential?” queried Mark after communications had been
completed.
“We’re famous!” responded Zip. “We’ve been aboard ship since the end of
the attempted takeover on Mars and haven’t kept up with the news, but
we’ve become household names. Oritz Konig told me that just as we were
leaving the Base. We’re the men who liberated Mars! The people in the
Belt are especially pleased since the pirates had planned to blockade
them once they had a strong hold on Eagle City. Why, you couldn’t find
another place in the Solar System that’d be happier to see us than
Yellow City!”
The _Star Ranger_ was given priority docking. Once its engines were shut
down, a large crew ran to secure it and welcome the Starmen. As Zip,
Mark, and Joe descended the ladder, eager hands reached up to help them
down the last two or three rungs. Through the bubble helmets on their
suits, the mechanics and service personnel were all smiles.
When Zip inquired about the offices of Starlight Enterprise, the Starmen
were ushered to a small moonbus and driven directly to the site. The
complex was a small two-story building set in a row of offices,
workshops, and garages not far from the landing field. All buildings on
Ceres were made of the gray rock native to the asteroid. Building
material was cheap and solid, but plain.
Although the city itself was covered with an atmosphere dome, the SE
office was located close to the landing field, not within the city
proper. Entrance was through an airlock. Once through the airlock, the
Starmen removed their helmets and placed them on the rack.
“Whoopee! This is fun, being famous!” exclaimed Joe, his eyes alight. “I
hope it lasts until we get back to the Earth-Moon system! I’d like to
enjoy it!”
“I hope so, too, for all our sakes. Your exploits have given _all_ the
Starmen a good name!” Joe whirled.
“Kathryn Mullaney!” cried Joe. Mark and Zip smiled widely.
“What are you doing on Ceres, Kathryn?” asked Zip. “I haven’t seen you
since your last visit to the Academy at the beginning of our senior
year.” Kathryn Mullaney had graduated from Starlight Academy a year
before Zip and his partners; her first assignment as a Starman was in
the Outer Planets. She was twenty years old, wore her strawberry blond
hair short, and had a few freckles spangled across her nose below blue
eyes which had a touch of green in them.
“Finished my assignment on Ganymede and I’m coming back home for a leave
which I hope will be very long! I spent eight months in the smallest
population center in the Solar System, and can’t wait to get back where
there are crowds of people! I’m just staying here long enough for a
quick once-over on my ship, refueling, and then I’m Earth-bound. In
fact, I’m on my way out now.”
There was a little more pleasant conversation, then Kathryn said, “I’ve
got to be going, and Sim is waiting for you upstairs. Good luck!”
Zip, Mark, and Joe ascended the stairs and came to the landing. The
stairway and corridors were very plain. There was no unnecessary
ornamentation of any kind, and lighting was minimal. They found a door
with a sign on it that read STARLIGHT ENTERPRISE in bold letters. A
second line provided the name of SE’s resident operations officer on
Ceres: “Sim Sala Bim.” Joe knocked.
“Come in,” said a voice. The Starmen entered the door. The occupant, a
tall, slender man of Indian extraction with black thinning hair, was
already coming toward the door to welcome his visitors. “Welcome! So
glad to see you! Welcome, please come in!” He ushered them into the
room.
“Nice to see you again, Sim,” greeted Zip. They sat down in a circle of
chairs, Sim sitting near a table on which were placed all the makings
necessary for tea. There were already two cups set out, which had been
used recently. Sim took one for himself and set the other aside. “This
was Kathryn’s,” he said as he produced three new cups for his visitors.
“You probably passed her on your way in.”
The conversation continued as Sim poured the tea from a very large brown
earthenware teapot. Before long, Zip brought up the subject of their
visit.
“I wish we had more time to visit, Sim, but our assignment is extremely
urgent. We must find George St. George as fast as possible, and Oritz
has told us that only a miner named Montezuma Vly can tell us where he
is. We’re on our way to Montezuma’s Castle.”
“Ah, yes,” said Sim Sala Bim, “Sabbath George. He is well known here,
but we haven’t seen him in almost a year, I think. Almost a year.”
“Sabbath George?” asked Mark.
“George St. George is a devout man--genial, generous, liked and
respected by everyone. Honest to a fault. He’s called Sabbath George
because of his beliefs. The nickname is intended to kid him a little
bit, but is really meant as a term of respect and affection. But to find
him in short order, you will indeed have to go through Montezuma Vly.
Montezuma’s Castle is not hard to find, but getting in will be
difficult.”
“We are familiar with Mr. Vly’s convictions and we wouldn’t bother him
if there were any other way to find St. George. Given the time
constraints, we have no choice.”
Sim nodded. “Montezuma’s Castle is easily recognizable by its unusual
shape. It is a true crescent, a sliver of stone with Vly’s operation in
its very center.” Sim went on to provide its coordinates and other
information the Starmen would need to find it.
Zip continued. “On this assignment secrecy is of the utmost importance.
It is vital that no one knows who we are or what we’re doing. We
obviously can’t take the _Star Ranger_, as the news media have made that
ship easily recognizable. We learned that when we landed on Ceres. I
think we’re going to need to use another ship.”
With Sim, the Starmen made plans to leave the _Star Ranger_ on Ceres
while the Starmen, dressed in ordinary clothes, quietly departed for
Montezuma’s Castle in another ship.
“I’ll let you have the _Vigilant Warrior_,” said Sim. “It’s a local
ship, designed for operating in the Asteroid Belt. We own it, but it
hasn’t been used in a while and probably no one will recognize it as an
SE ship. It’s the best I can do on short notice, but it should serve you
well.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, if you say so,” answered Zip.
Sim Sala Bim got right to work, and the _Vigilant Warrior_ was ready for
takeoff within two hours. As soon as it was ready, the Starmen lifted
off from Yellow City. As Joe piloted the ship into the heart of the
Belt, Zip looked back for a brief, wistful moment and saw the unusual
dark red color of the _Star Ranger_, his ship, on the field of Yellow
City.
* * * * *
“That’s it,” said Mark, as the navigation equipment locked onto the
asteroid that was the home of the elusive Montezuma Vly.
“Hmmm. No wonder it’s so hard to find,” observed Zip, looking over
Mark’s shoulder for a moment. “Not far from major travelways but so
unobtrusive you’d never notice it.”
“It just hovers almost in the shadow of that large, worthless chunk
here. Should be able to see it out the window before too long.”
Joe was busy threading the _Vigilant Warrior_ through the asteroids for
the next few minutes. He kept the ship at a moderate pace and passed
easily around the slowly turning asteroids. They were all moving at
about the same speed and maneuvering was not difficult.
“Should be coming up on it about now,” offered Mark.
“There it is,” said Zip almost immediately. The _Vigilant Warrior_ had
eased its way around an oblong worldlet--the “large, worthless chunk”
that Mark had just mentioned--bringing into view a crescent-shaped,
stony asteroid about a mile long. It looked almost like a fat banana
with the ends tapering into sharp points.
“Montezuma’s Castle,” breathed Zip. “Kind of looks like a moon for that
large asteroid.”
“I think it is,” answered Mark. “It rotates around the larger chunk and
the two make almost a helix pattern in their journey through the Belt.
They were probably a single asteroid at one time. One powerful impact
must have split them, but the pieces haven’t drifted far apart.”
“Well, let’s get down there. There’s no mistaking the shape of the
‘Castle.’ Whatever odd shapes you can find in the Belt, that’s got to be
unique.” The Starman brought the _Vigilant Warrior_ slowly into the
proximity of Montezuma Vly’s refuge. “See if you can raise him, Mark.”
Mark Seaton flipped on the communicator.
“Starman Mark Seaton on the starship _Vigilant Warrior_ calling
Montezuma Vly on the Castle, requesting permission to land.” His voice
was smooth, intimate, and confident. There was no response. A minute
later, Mark repeated the message. The metallic voice of an automatic
response system came on.
“This asteroid is private property and visitors are not welcome.”
“We understand that, sir,” Mark replied, “and we would not request
permission to land if it were not a matter of urgent business of
personal concern.” A human voice came on.
“Yeah, like I haven’t heard _that_ one before! I don’t want visitors! If
I wanted a social calendar, I’d go live in a big population center like
Ganymede. Keep going! Next services are 3,000 miles away.”
“Mr. Vly, this is Starman David Foster, Commander of the Starlight
Enterprise ship _Vigilant Warrior_,” Zip broke in. “We understand and
respect your reluctance to receive visitors and will stay no longer than
necessary. We are calling on you because your friend George St. George
has information we need which is vital to the safety of all the
settlements on Mars and even the Earth-Moon system. We also believe it
possible that he is in danger from violent men.”
“Well, _that’s_ a new one. George in danger? What about it?”
“May we land, Mr. Vly? I don’t want to take the slightest risk that our
conversation can be overheard. We won’t stay any longer than necessary.”
“You’ve found me. May as well come in and state your business.” The
communicator was shut off from Vly’s end.
Zip came up on the Castle. It didn’t take long to find the landing site.
There were two spacecraft in position in about the middle of the
asteroid. One was a small ship suitable for local jaunts, and the other
was a normal-sized craft capable of interplanetary travel. The name
_Sentinel_ was painted on the side of the larger craft. Both were very
old and in places a little battered, but were clearly cared about and
well kept up.
The _Vigilant Warrior_ touched down about fifty yards from the closest
of Vly’s craft. Joe shut off the engines and pressed the security
button. A slight shudder ran through the ship as bolts shot from the
fins, securing the ship to the surface. The Starmen disembarked and
descended the ladder.
“Over there,” pointed Joe. The entrance to the airlock was discernible
across the tiny landing area. The Starmen began walking toward it. The
starfield swept away to right and left, with a couple of nearby
asteroids visible to the eye. A great horn of stone rose up before them,
sweeping to a point above. Behind them a similar horn curved up in the
opposite direction.
The ground was uneven, with contours sharply defined. Jagged, broken
rock comprised most of the terrain, with a few smooth ripples which rose
about twenty or thirty feet from the plain. Shadows were utterly dark in
the vacuum of space. The Starmen wore asteroid shoes, designed for
walking in low gravity conditions. Their soles had an automatic “smart
grip” function that gripped the ground when weight was placed on them,
but released when the walker took another step. Without the asteroid
shoes, the minimal gravity of “Montezuma’s Castle” would have made
walking a difficult, even dangerous, task.
The Starmen saw that the airlock was set into the side of a hill. The
hill had been artificially cut away in front of the door. As Zip, Mark,
and Joe approached the airlock, the outer door opened. When they had
passed through, it shut behind them. Joe kept watch on the instruments
as air filled the compartment. When the atmosphere had become normal, he
removed his helmet, and Zip and Mark followed suit. They opened the
second door and passed through. A dimly-lit stairway led down in front
of them. About twenty-five steps brought them to the beginning of a
short passageway. At the end was another door. It was solid.
Zip approached the door and paused. He turned his head to the other two,
lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. Mark and Joe nodded. Zip knocked. The
door was opened almost immediately.
A good-looking, clean-shaven man with dark brown wavy hair looked them
over once quickly, then stepped aside. “Come in,” he said, waving a hand
while the other held the door. “I’m Montezuma Vly.” He had powerful
hands, obviously used to hard labor. His nails had grit under them.
Strong as the hands were, they were also clearly the hands of an artist,
capable of fine work. He shook hands with the Starmen as they entered.
“Wow!” said Joe, the last to enter. Vly shut the door. The three Starmen
gazed about them. They were standing in a small room packed with
machinery--old-fashioned machinery used for rock cutting, polishing
stones, and mounting specimens. The heady smell of machine oil hung in
the air, not heavy like that of an aircraft hangar but attractive and
energizing, almost like a perfume.
The machinery was made of cast iron, with wheels and gears, rods and
chains visible inside the cases. Mark noted that each machine looked
lovingly maintained. The newest machine must have been at least fifty
years old, but all were in top quality condition.
“They’re made to be used,” explained Vly, discerning their thoughts.
“You can’t get better machines than these today. The new stuff doesn’t
last and can’t be depended on.”
Mark, the engine master of the trio, immediately thought of the
precision instruments produced by Starlight Enterprise. He opened his
mouth, but said nothing. He knew that SE made quality machinery, but
little of it was iron. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself by
talking about something of which he knew little. Instead he smiled and
decided to take a closer look.
He leaned over the closest apparatus. His mild skepticism quickly turned
to awe. “My goodness, Mr. Vly! This is incredible! These machines are
beautiful!” Vly didn’t smile, but his face softened a little.
Joe and Zip were looking around the room. On two walls were hung various
hand tools. Several shelves held cans of oil and paint, boxes of
supplies, and dozens of samples of minerals and crystals. The other two
walls were lined with books, half of them behind glass.
Zip turned his head to the side to read the titles of some of the books.
He saw _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_; _Kon Tiki_ by Thor
Heyerdahl; _Homer’s Odyssey_; and several advanced textbooks on
mineralogy, metallurgy, engineering, and electronics. Zip’s eyebrows
lifted. He was impressed.
Mark was looking at the books on the other wall. _Basic Watercolor_, he
read. _The Stories of Edgar Allen Poe_ was next to _The Life of Johann
Sebastian Bach_. Mark whistled. “Not what I expected, Mr. Vly,” he said.
“Not at all what I expected.”
“Uh huh,” murmured Montezuma Vly. “Let’s get down to business. Follow
me.” He squeezed past Zip in the crowded little workplace, passed
through a narrow door on the other side of the room, and through a
passageway. The Starmen followed.
A small furry shape leaped through the air in front of Joe. “Ack!”
exclaimed the lanky Starman, stumbling backward, knocking over a couple
of small boxes as his arms flailed. Nuts and bolts scattered on the
floor. Joe backed into another box and sat down hard on it.
“What--?” exclaimed Vly, turning.
“What was that?” cried Joe. “Something jumped across the corridor. I
think it went into this recess here.” He pointed to an opening between a
few stacked boxes.
“One of my koalangs,” answered Montezuma. “I’ve got four of them here.
There are a few more in the living quarters. Good company. They can
startle you, though, and they can make an awful mess. More than once
I’ve threatened to make stew out of ’em and eat ’em for dinner.” The
Starmen looked at one another, wondering if he was joking. His next
action showed that he was.
“Come on, Howard,” said Montezuma gently, bending over and calling into
the dark place where the koalang had hidden. “They won’t hurt you. I
know you’re not used to company, but no one’s gonna hurt you. Come on
out. That’s it, come on.” He reached in gently and drew a small creature
out of the darkness. It had a small furry face with large, frightened
eyes, and snuggled up against the miner. Its fur was caramel and white.
He folded it into his chest and covered it gently with both hands. He
crooned to it lovingly for a moment or two, then said, “That’s right.
You’re okay. Go play.” Then he added with mock fierceness, “Just stay
out of the paint!” He set it down and turned back to the door at the end
of the corridor.
“In here,” he directed, leading the way into the room beyond.
4: Sabbath George
THE ROOM was smaller than the Starmen had anticipated. Its small size
was accentuated by being packed to the ceiling with a variety of items.
Hand tools identical to those used by rock hounds for centuries lay on
tables and on shelves. Stacks of paper, most of which showed signs of
being bound by hand, covered much of the remaining space. On one shelf
was a large, clear sphere on an ornately shaped stand. The eyes of all
three Starmen were drawn to it.
“Have a seat,” offered their host.
There were three chairs. Montezuma sat in one placed before a desk and
swiveled to face his visitors. Zip and Joe took the other chairs and
Mark sat on a short stack of crates filled with rock samples. A thick
book rested on a table in the center of the room. Mark glanced at the
title, turning his head slightly to do so. It was _The Flying Carpet_,
by Richard Halliburton. There was a bookmark about halfway through the
book.
The asteroid miner leaned forward. “What about George?” he asked.
Zip filled him in. Montezuma Vly paid close attention. His eyes never
wavered from Zip’s face as he spoke. When Zip was finished, Vly nodded.
“Mm hmm,” he murmured. “This could be bad for George. I’ll tell you
where to find him. I expect that you’ll be able to keep him out of the
clutches of the space vultures. You’ve got an enemy to be reckoned with
in this Zimbardo psychopath, but I believe you can handle him.”
“You seem to know a lot about our recent exploits, Mr. Vly,” said Joe,
conversationally.
“I’m not the complete recluse people think, Mr. Taylor. People have a
lot of wrong ideas about me. I don’t want to be listed in the Register
of Peoples, and I don’t want people butting into my business or telling
me how to live, but I keep up with the news. If I hadn’t recognized you,
you wouldn’t have been allowed to land on my asteroid. You’re not
wearing Starman’s red, you know.”
“We’re grateful to you, Mr. Vly,” nodded Zip.
“May I ask--” began Mark, then hesitated.
“Yes, you may ask. Go on.”
Mark turned his head toward the sphere. “The sphere...”
“Oh yes. It’s pure crystal, all right.”
The Starmen gasped. “_Pure...crystal...?_” stammered Mark. “Why, there
can’t be a larger one in the Solar System! It’s priceless!”
“Next largest was in the Smithsonian Institution, a little more than
twelve inches in diameter. This one’s sixteen and three-quarters inches.
Found it myself on Adamant--that’s the parent asteroid from which this
sliver I live on was busted off a few millennia ago.” Mark knew he was
referring to what he had called a “worthless chunk” before they landed.
Vly went on. “Shaped it myself in those old machines you saw coming in
here. Had to redesign some of ’em to fit a crystal this size, but we did
it.”
“It looks flawless!” breathed Joe.
“Looks it, but isn’t. Its flaws are its greatest treasure. Watch this;
you haven’t seen anything yet.” Vly picked up a small cutting tool with
a laser guide at the end. He turned off the lights and then pointed the
laser at the crystal sphere. The beam struck the surface and then
scattered throughout the interior of the globe, igniting sparks of
spectacular glory. Mark could feel tears come into his eyes from the
unearthly beauty the light created. Many dozens of flakes, invisible to
the naked eye, were revealed when the laser beam pierced the
near-perfect sphere. They exploded in glorious colors--gold, orange,
deep red, flaming yellow, silver; even a few brilliant green, deep blue,
and violet sparks traced across the inner world.
The Starmen were speechless. They couldn’t take their eyes off the
resplendent glory of the sphere under the laser light. “Beautiful, isn’t
it?” asked Vly, gently. There was no need to answer.
“Where do the colors come from?” asked Mark. “Laser light has only one
wavelength, so it can’t be refracting in there.”
“The crystal’s impurities are almost invisible to the unaided eye,”
answered Vly, “but the laser hits the impurities and causes secondary
emissions of light of all sorts of color--the more impurities, the more
colors. It lights up better than a fire opal.”
As he moved the laser beam slowly around the globe, the interior lights
changed--first one, then another “flaw” taking the light and surging
into radiance.
All too soon, he switched off the laser and turned the room lights back
on. It was almost as if a spell had been broken.
“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll show you just where George is on the chart.” He
moved back down the hall, the Starmen following. When they were back in
the room they had first entered, Vly reached up into a recess where
there were several rolled sheets of paper. “Move aside,” he said
quietly, pushing a reluctant koalang over and pulling out a large roll.
He unrolled it over a rock polisher and gestured for the Starmen to take
the corners. It was a map of a portion of the asteroid belt.
“Here’s where we are,” said Vly, pointing to a spot on the map, “and
here’s where George is.” His finger swept across the map to where a tiny
dot had been placed. “It’s a mining operation of moderate size called
Z25. He runs it there with a fair-sized crew--maybe a dozen men.” There
were equations, sketches, and notes scribbled all over the sheet.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Vly,” said Mark, “but I don’t follow you. I’m used to
plotting coordinates and thinking in three dimensions.”
“See these figures?” asked Vly. “They’re your coordinates. It is a
three-dimensional map, in a manner of speaking. If it weren’t, I
couldn’t get around. I’ll write down what you need. But you’ll find
George on that little plunk of a rock. He’s been there several months
now and won’t be hard to find, once I point it out to you. I just spoke
to him a few hours ago and I’ll get ahold of him again and tell him
you’ll be coming.” He began to write some notes down for Mark.
“Must take a lot of power to run your operation here, Mr. Vly,” observed
Mark while he waited for Montezuma to finish writing. “Don’t you have to
conserve energy?”
“Haven’t had to conserve energy since I developed a new process for
drawing energy directly from the sun.”
“But out here the solar radiation is so weak. You can’t get much energy
from solar panels, no matter how efficient--certainly not enough to run
your machines without some sort of supplement.”
“I don’t use solar panels any more, Mr. Seaton. I mine energy from the
sun directly with an entirely new process. I can pull in and store about
four gigawatts. Gives me all I need and plenty left over.”
“Four _giga_watts?”
“Four gigawatts. That’s a four with nine zeroes after it.”
Mark almost shouted. “I know how much it is! Mr. Vly! You amaze me!
There’s nothing like that anywhere else in the Solar System! _Nobody_
has anything like that, nobody! Not even Starlight Enterprise! You could
make a _fortune_ if you sell your design!!”
“Really?” said Mr. Vly, lifting his eyebrows slightly, handing him the
sheet with his notes on it. “Excuse me a moment while I write that down,
so the next time I want to turn my whole life over to lawyers and
businessmen I’ll know just what to do.”
“But, but...” Mark spluttered. Joe laughed and Zip smiled.
“Thank you, Mr. Vly,” said Zip, extending his hand. “It has been a
remarkable visit, and we appreciate very much your letting us drop in.”
Montezuma shook Zip’s hand. “Wait a minute, Starmen. Let me give you
something to help you while away the long hours in space.” He turned and
rummaged through a box, then scanned a shelf behind him. After a moment
he pulled out a gold disc in a flat, clear container.
“Take this,” he said, handing it to Zip. “It’s a recording of the entire
works of Johann Sebastian Bach. That’s more than 1,200 compositions. The
music is so complex that some of its mysteries weren’t even discovered
until the computer age. Lily made this disk. She’s an expert in the
music of the Renaissance. Does research all the time.”
“Lily?”
“Lily and I have been partners out here for over twenty years. Us and
the koalangs.”
Zip put the disk into his pocket. “Thank you, sir. Best wishes to you.”
“You too. An occasional visit once in a while is welcome, especially
when people respect my way of life. Most don’t understand. I think you
three do. Just protect George. He’s a good friend, and they’re hard to
find.”
* * * * *
About 56 hours later, the _Vigilant Warrior_ came into the proximity of
Z25. Joe eased the ship through a scattering of moderate-sized asteroids
and then came into a space where there were relatively few chunks of
stone and iron moving through space. On the far side of the open area
was an asteroid nearly twenty miles long and half as wide.
“There it is,” announced Joe. “Z25.”
Zip gave a nod to Mark, and Mark opened communications.
“_Vigilant Warrior_ calling Z25. We have arrived in your area and seek
permission to land.”
“You made good time, friends,” came a voice instantly. “Come on in and
welcome.”
The Starmen had spoken to St. George once during their journey from
Montezuma’s Castle, but only briefly. The communications were encrypted,
but even the encryption could be a tipoff to an enemy who might be
listening in.
As they made their final approach, the Starmen had a good view of Z25’s
horizon near the time of local sunset. The surface was dark because of
the oblique illumination, but several boulders caught the sunlight and
appeared as bright sentinels on the landscape. The brightest of the
boulders, just to the upper right of a deeply shadowed crater in the
foreground, marked the landing area. A cluster of artificial structures
was visible nearby, and several spaceships were parked in an informal
array. A dome covered the buildings, and reflected the sun in a burst of
brightness. Mark had a quick memory of dewdrops in the garden of his
home on Earth when he was a child. He recalled thinking that each
dewdrop held a small sun.
In moments the Starmen were sitting in George St. George’s study. He was
a man in his middle-fifties, of average height and weight, with a full
head of wavy blond hair. It was obvious that he cut his own hair, but
long practice had made him skilled at it. Though his eyes were ice-blue,
he exuded warmth. He had a ready smile. The Starmen were sitting in a
makeshift room under a temporary atmosphere dome on an isolated
asteroid, but St. George’s courtliness and genuine respect for his
visitors made them feel as if they were in a manor house. On his desk
lay a thick book with the title _Commentary on the Letter to the
Romans_, and several sheets of paper and a pen were set beside it where
he had obviously been doing some study.
“I hope you men won’t mind waiting for refreshments. It’s almost
dinnertime and the crew will be coming up for a meal in about half an
hour. Of course, you’ll join us, won’t you?”
“Thank you Mr. St. George,” responded Zip. “We’d be pleased to meet your
men and see your operation.”
“Monty tells me you three are real ripstavers, and he doesn’t say that
very often about anybody. You must have impressed him!” St. George was
full of smiles.
“May we sit down, Mr. St. George? Our business is rather urgent!” Zip
continued.
“Of course, of course. Please forgive me! We don’t get visitors of any
kind out here and I’m just not used to entertaining. Please forgive me!”
St. George rushed busily setting out chairs, bringing in two from a room
next door. “And please call me George.”
Once they were settled, Zip began to tell George about the pirates and
Zimbardo’s likely determination to find and eliminate the one man who
knew where the pirates’ asteroid could be found. Before he got too far
into the story, George lifted a hand and smiled. “Yes, yes, I know,” he
said. “Monty told me all about it.”
The Starmen leaped out of their chairs, absolutely stunned. Before they
had left Montezuma’s Castle Zip had impressed upon Vly how vital it was
for St. George’s safety that they not communicate until his friend was
safe. Zip had begged him to send just a quick, encrypted message that
Z25 was to expect three visitors who had Vly’s seal of approval--no
more.
“George!” gasped Joe. “That message could have been intercepted by the
pirates! They _must_ be looking for you!”
“We told Vly not to communicate with you! It could mean your life!”
continued Mark, suddenly heartsick with anxiety.
George chuckled. “Don’t worry, Starmen! The pirates already tried to
find me through Monty, but the greegles protected him, and the
pirates’ll never find me without cooperation from Monty--which they’ll
never get. There’s really no need to worry. We’re completely safe here.
We’ll have dinner, you’ll stay here to sleep, I’ll show you around the
operation, and you can go back to Ceres.”
The Starmen were speechless for a moment. Joe’s eyes nervously scanned
the room and Mark stared at George with his mouth agape. Then Zip spoke.
“What are greegles, George?”
George chuckled again. “You haven’t heard of this ‘asteroid miner’s
legend’? Most people think it’s in a class with leprechauns and
mermaids, the story of the greegles, but it’s all true. The greegles are
the inhabitants of the asteroids. Don’t know if they’re alive or not.
They’re made of metal--some kind of metal--or maybe they just wear a
metal suit. They’re about a foot high. Now, don’t stare at me like that;
you’re looking thoroughly obflisticated, probably thinking I’ve been out
in the vacuum too long, but I’ve seen them! They’re little and they’re
old, very old, but they’re powerful! No one can beat them! Usually no
one ever sees them and they don’t have any need to interfere with human
beings. They don’t mind it too much, though, if a solitary asteroid
miner sees them once in a while.”
“And wh--, what do they have to do with Montezuma?” asked Zip, keeping
his voice steady.
“Why, a short time after you left the Castle, about five ships tried to
land on the Castle by force--pirates, for sure. No doubt they wanted to
force Monty to tell ’em where I am. But Monty knows how to contact the
greegles. There’s a lot of greegles on Adamant.” George chuckled again.
“Those poor fellows--the pirates, that is! When the pirates told Monty
they were going to land whether he wanted them to or not, why, he just
called the greegles for help. They cut four of the ships into pieces in
a matter of seconds, leaving the crew floating in their spacesuits. Then
they grabbed them with some sort of invisible grappling beam or
something and herded them toward the fifth ship. That ship gathered them
in and took off.”
Now George laughed out loud. “They got the message real fast! _Go away
and don’t come back!_ And they scrammed! Never even set foot on
Montezuma’s Castle. Monty will make good use of the floating space junk
the pirates left. Serves ’em right!”
Just then a gentle buzz sounded. “That’s the call for dinner, friends.
Come meet the others!”
Almost immediately another sound came through the communications
system--an urgent clangor. St. George’s face became taut and a look of
surprise and anxiety came over his features.
“What’s that?” asked Zip.
“It’s the alarm,” St. George whispered. “It’s never sounded before.” The
alarm abruptly shut off and an excited, panic-stricken voice came
through the intercom.
“Five ships approaching! Coming in fast! They’re commanding all hands to
come to the landing field and threatening to destroy the whole operation
if we don’t cooperate! They’ve already started to destroy the base!”
5: The Destruction of Z25
JOE dashed from the room and sped down the hallway to the control center
of the mining base. Each strike of a laser beam colored the interior of
the buildings with ruby red as the attackers’ targets were vaporized,
and the flashes were coming with disturbing frequency. He hurled himself
into the tiny office where a frantic young man sat at a console.
“We’re going to die!” cried the young man. Joe looked through the large
window and saw five ships hovering over the base. Their laser cannons
were rapidly destroying the outlying parts of the mining base. There
were no defensive weapons. Joe glanced at the radar screen and his hair
stood up as he saw that the screen showed nothing. To the surveillance
system, the ships were invisible. The technician was babbling in abject,
helpless fear, but Joe’s pulse leaped when he realized that the
frightened young man might be right. They could all be dead at any
moment. The man fled the room crying.
Joe looked out the window again and saw that laser cannons had begun to
destroy the ships. Through the horrifying, rapidly expanding concentric
vapor shells, he saw the _Vigilant Warrior_ crumpling into a heap. The
other ships were either completely destroyed or well on the way.
“What is this? Who are they?” exclaimed Mark. He, Zip, and George had
followed Joe to the control center and were watching the laser beams
sweep the landing field. The ships were being indiscriminately reduced
to molten slag.
“Their laser beams are immensely powerful, and they’re operating at full
capacity,” observed Zip, grimly. Just then the lights went out and every
apparatus in the control center went dark.
“They found and destroyed the power plant,” whispered George, the
tenseness evident in his voice. “But they’re not touching the inhabited
parts of the base.”
Suddenly Zip turned to their host. “George!” he said urgently. “Do any
of your crew know that we are Starmen?” George turned a distracted face
to Zip and stared as if he wasn’t comprehending what Zip had said.
“Do any of your crew know that we are Starmen?” Zip repeated carefully.
“I--I don’t know. I didn’t tell anybody, I think, but I didn’t keep it a
secret.”
“Look! Gather them all together and tell them not to say anything about
us to these invaders! Our safety may depend on it, as well as any chance
we all have of eventually escaping!”
“Ah--all right,” George stammered.
Since the power was out, there was no way to make an announcement
through the communication system, but the rest of the crew was
assembling anyway. The refectory was located not far from the control
center and the men were coming together there, so the Starmen and George
went to join them.
In a moment, there were about a dozen men in the room. Some sat on the
benches, others stood. There was palpable fear in the room, as if they
knew that sudden, violent death was near.
Zip asked George, “Is this everyone?” George took a quick glance around
the room.
“I, I think so, yes.”
Zip took charge. “Men, listen to me. We’re about to be taken captive. I
don’t think anything worse will happen to us, or it would have happened
by now. My friends and I have come to visit Sabbath George. Just got
here from Ceres and sure didn’t expect this!”
George took over. He was showing more confidence now. Alone of the Z25
crew, he had never shown fear, just shock. “We’ll just wait right here,
men, and see what’s next. I don’t know who these attackers are or what
they want, but don’t volunteer any information of any kind. You hear me?
_No information_ of any kind, beyond the most basic.”
The men were silent and collapsed in on themselves. They were afraid,
but the panic seemed to have diminished somewhat. Outside, the five
ships had landed and about twenty space-suited men had emerged. With
weapons in hand, they were approaching the dome. The leader gestured to
several of them, who spread out around the dome. The others remained at
the main airlock and waited. Their feet were spread in an attitude of
defiant power.
“They want the airlock open, Mr. St. George,” said the young man who had
fled from the control center. His voice was dry and squeaky.
George said, “Can’t open it. No controls. Those fools destroyed the
power center. If they’re coming in, you’ll have to get your spacesuits
on because the atmosphere is going to disappear. Make it quick before
they blow the airlock by force.” The men scattered. George and the
Starmen went to the airlock and looked at the invaders from the inside
of the dome. George said to the Starmen, “Of course, there’s a backup
power system, but I don’t feel a compelling need to make it any easier
for these strangers.”
When the leader saw that there were people coming, he kicked the airlock
savagely and aimed his weapon at the mechanism. As was customary, the
helmets were lined up on a rack on shelves just inside the airlock.
George put on his helmet and the Starmen put on theirs. The rest of the
mining crew began to show up with their suits on and found their
helmets. When all were suited up and the intercoms were on, George told
the mining crew to stand aside. Then he told the leader of the invaders
that he could enter.
The man fired a stupendously powerful beam at the airlock that melted it
like ice in a furnace. In seconds, the air inside the dome whooshed out
into the vacuum of space.
“Get into the ship,” growled the leader of the invaders, indicating the
closest of the five spaceships. “No one is going to be hurt, but I’m not
guaranteeing that that situation will last. I’m not a patient man and I
don’t like wasting time.”
“What about our belongings?” asked George.
“You won’t need them. Move to the ship. Now.” The voice was even and
quiet but as hard as iron. Zip started the procession. He slumped down
as if completely disheartened and walked like a prisoner, his eyes
pointed to the ground. The others followed. The invaders kept them
surrounded as they walked the short distance to the pilot ship. Several
invaders entered first and then kept watch on the prisoners as they
ascended the ladder into the staging area. Once the asteroid miners were
aboard, the other invaders entered their ships.
When the door was sealed, the invaders removed their helmets. The miners
followed suit. The leader took a quick inventory of the prisoners, and
then settled his gaze on George.
“You are George St. George,” he said in a tone that knew he was stating
a fact. “My name is Lather. You and your men are now prisoners of Lurton
Zimbardo. I am taking you to him. As long as I’ve got _you_, I don’t
care about anything or anyone else. Don’t make any trouble and I won’t
see any need to put anyone off the ship. It doesn’t make any difference
to me whether any of your men is in deep space or my guest room, but it
might make a difference to you--and them.”
Without turning his head, Lather addressed one of his crew. “Blaze, see
that this base is melted into the bedrock.”
“Yes sir,” said the man addressed and left the room.
Lather addressed another of his crew. “Spelford, escort the prisoners to
their quarters.”
Spelford lifted his weapon and nodded in the direction they were to go.
The prisoners went, under the guard of several armed men.
They were taken to a room set up to accommodate up to twenty passengers.
There were niches with beds in them, and couches for use during
acceleration.
“Prepare for lift-off,” ordered Spelford. The prisoners sat down and
strapped themselves in. Spelford and his men left, locking the door
behind them. In a moment the warning signal for lift-off was given. The
ship raised itself gently from the surface of the asteroid. The fierce
glare of destructive laser strikes came through the quartz window for
nearly a minute, and the prisoners knew that the living quarters of Z25
were being systematically destroyed.
“They’re ramsquaddling the whole operation,” said Sabbath George in a
voice that sounded almost matter-of-fact. “Never had anything like this
happen before. This is a first.”
When the glow ceased, the ships accelerated. The Starmen and their
companions felt themselves pressed into the chairs.
* * * * *
The five invisible ships had been gone for over an hour, but the man in
the shadow still did not move. He was on a neighboring chunk of floating
iron, just a mile or two in diameter with a very slow rotation. St.
George’s asteroid would vanish below his horizon in a few minutes. The
man pulled the telescope up to his face plate once again and scanned the
area that had been the base on Z25. There had been no movement of any
kind since the ships had rayed the site. He took a few more pictures for
his files. The metal and quartz plating--all signs of human
presence--had been completely destroyed, melted into the rock of the
asteroid. The brilliant orange of superheated rock had quickly cooled in
the near-absolute zero of airless space.
“Guess it’s okay to go now,” he thought. “Those space buzzards are not
detail men--just grab and destroy without even looking around. Lucky for
me.”
The man went over to a small asteroid cruiser, built for speed in
touring the Asteroid Belt. Stepping in, he sealed the airlock and pulled
out a small recorder. He tuned in a complicated code and began to speak.
“Steve Cliff, reporting in to Oritz Konig on Mars Base.” Steve went on
to give the date, time, and location, and a brief but thorough report of
what he had seen, from the time the Starmen landed on Z25 to the time
the pirates’ five ships had disappeared. He added to the file the
pictures he had taken, and concluded, “Now returning to Yellow City. If
you have anything else you’d like me to do, Oritz, contact me there. I
don’t have to tell you I’m pretty fond o’ those boys and I was more’n
delighted to keep an eye on ’em for you on this trip. Sorry this report
isn’t any better. I’ll stop in and see Sim before I continue my trip
back to Earth, just in case you leave a message for me there.”
Having finished the recording, he put it into a small projectile with an
automatic timer to release and send the message in three hours. Then he
lifted off the small asteroid and headed toward Ceres. A few minutes
after liftoff, he fired the projectile. When it sent its message, Steve
Cliff would be far away and no one could trace the message back to his
ship. On top of that, the message was encrypted and designed to travel
on the microwaves similar to those in the background of space. It was
highly unlikely that this message would make anyone curious. After the
message had been sent, the projectile would break down into its
component parts and scatter them into the infinity of space.
* * * * *
The ships had stopped accelerating and the prisoners could talk easily.
“You don’t seem too upset, George,” suggested Mark.
“Naw,” said George. “’Course I’m sorry to lose my stuff back there, and
I’m sorry for the men, but most of our stuff is somewhere else. This was
a temporary base and the mine wasn’t producing too well anyway. Hardly
worth our time. Besides, I’ve learned to be content just about wherever
I am. I’ve been around the asteroids a lot and I’ve learned to depend on
a Resource outside myself whatever the circumstances. I know what it is
to be brought low, and I know what it is to have plenty. I’ve been
thoroughly initiated into the human lot with all its ups and
downs--fullness and hunger, plenty and want. Makes little difference to
me. Wherever I am, whatever happens, I’m confident. And I’m a man of
prayer.”
“I’m sure sorry about your friend Montezuma,” said Zip sympathetically.
“What do you mean?”
“Why, these ships must be the same five that attacked him. They couldn’t
have found you without getting the information from Vly. So it’s a good
guess that they destroyed his base the way they did yours.”
“Nothing of the sort!” said St. George heatedly. “I told you that those
ships were defeated and their crew sent back to wherever they came from
with their tail between their legs!”
“But this story about the ‘greegles’--” contributed Joe.
“The greegles sliced _those_ ships up like salami!” insisted St. George.
“These ships we’re on are a different lot! And besides, Monty would
_never_ have told anybody how to find me--not by force or threat,
anyway!”
“We’re sorry, George,” apologized Zip. “I didn’t mean to upset you or
cast any doubt on Montezuma Vly. You’re right--he’s not the type to give
in to any threat. I must be mistaken.”
“You’re forgiven,” said St. George. He went off to see how his men were
doing.
“Zip!” whispered Joe urgently. “You don’t really believe that story
about the ‘greegles.’ These _have_ to be the same ships!”
“I think it’s more important not to upset George. We don’t know the
whole story.”
“But _greegles_!”
“What about the greegles?” asked Mark, with a slight edge of
defensiveness in his tone. “Did it seem to either of you that Vly would
betray a friend to save himself? And did you see any sign of advanced
weaponry at Montezuma’s Castle?”
“What are you saying, Mark?” asked Joe.
“I’m saying that we shouldn’t discount an old tale just because it
sounds foolish or superstitious. George knew we were coming. He couldn’t
have known unless Montezuma sent him a message, even though we warned
him against doing so. If he sent George a message, he wasn’t taken over
by the pirates. These aren’t the same ships. These are another part of
Zimbardo’s fleet sent out to find George St. George. They must have
tracked him down through the message Vly sent--not because they landed
on the Castle and threatened him.”
Zip looked deeply thoughtful. Joe looked incredulous.
“Mark, you can’t be serious!”
“It’s not a matter of being serious or not, Joe; it’s a matter of being
open-minded.”
“George described it himself! He’s been out in the vacuum too long.”
“I don’t think George strikes me as an unbalanced man. Unusual, for
sure. But not unbalanced. Not unbalanced at all.” Mark looked over his
shoulder. George had his arms around two of his men and was talking to
them in a low voice. The rest of them were gathered around, paying close
attention to what he was saying. Already the atmosphere was one of
peace. No one seemed afraid now.
Through the window beyond, a portion of the vast arm of the Milky Way
spread out in its eternal beauty. The Starmen were silently wondering
the same things: How long would it be before they met Lurton Zimbardo?
Would he recognize them? Why did he want St. George alive?
6: Battle Lines
THE PIRATES’ ASTEROID swung in a smooth, private orbit about a thousand
miles beyond the farthest extremity of the Asteroid Belt. Lurton
Zimbardo was in his private sanctum, a well-equipped workroom with
precision astronomical equipment, sky charts, and an enormous inventory
of computer files. As he turned his telescanner toward the Inner
Planets, he saw the spread of the Belt before him.
Countless celestial bodies moved in an incredibly slow pattern like a
stately dance. Reflected sunlight glinted from oblique surfaces into the
light-gathering lenses of the telescanner. When the occasional
crystalline surface or frozen lake on a passing asteroid caught the
radiance just right, an intense but transitory sparkling brilliance was
generated, and created a pattern of astonishing beauty on the scanner’s
computer screen.
Zimbardo entered a few more bits of data into the criteria of his search
pattern and then said, “Enter.” Within seconds several asteroids were
marked in his files. He brought their profiles up one by one.
M253.
Shape: oblong.
Maximum length: 0.683 miles.
Maximum width: 0.307 miles.
Composition: 90.568% iron, 6.443% tin, 0.752%
ice, 2.237% trace elements; click here for details.
Other information was provided, including the asteroid’s precise
location and its speed of motion and rotation. Zimbardo hesitated a
moment, then said, “Delete.” He went on to the next entry.
M3366.
Shape: almost perfect sphere; variation <5%.
Mean diameter, 0.057 miles.
The other information was provided. Zimbardo smiled. “Ah--nearly solid
iron and about 100 yards exactly!” he thought to himself. “That makes
five.” He told the computer to save that file, then opened the intercom.
“Gene,” he said.
“Yes sir,” came the immediate response.
“Contact Mr. Crass and tell him I want M3366.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Then call the five lieutenants up to my study at once, please. Get
Kimball, Lorry, and Jenner also. Once you’ve called them, come up
yourself.” Gene nodded and activated the personal contact codes of the
men Zimbardo wanted to see.
A quarter of an hour later, the ten men were in the lounge in Zimbardo’s
quarters. He was playing host, and pouring out a dark golden sherry wine
into luxurious spun glass goblets.
One of the men lifted up the goblet so the illumination reflected from
it, highlighting subtle rainbow whorls in the surface. He swirled his
wine before he sipped it.
“Very nice, Lurton, and the glass here is pretty top stuff.”
“The wine came from Earth but the glassware came with the asteroid,
Jeff. This place has so much in it that I haven’t found a hundredth of
what it contains, but all of it is high quality.”
The men relaxed in the comfortable chairs. The chairs automatically
adjusted to the body weight and shape of whoever sat in them. Soft,
almost imperceptible music was playing in the background. A light
fragrance in the air eased tensions and sharpened minds for thought.
Zimbardo had nothing to do with creating this atmosphere--these features
came on automatically whenever anyone entered the room.
“Petty soft life you got here, Zimbardo,” sighed the man named Lorry,
easing himself down into his chair. “I’m not used to this kind of
comfort.”
“No, Lorry, I guess not. You don’t find too many easy chairs aboard the
kind of ships you pilot when you’re transporting the Banjoman’s flilox
to his customers in the Belt. But when our plan succeeds, you’ll be able
to buy all the soft chairs you want. Let’s get down to business.”
Zimbardo stood before the assembled company. Behind him, taking up most
of the wall, was a map of a large portion of Mars. “As I was saying when
we met in the hangar assembly room yesterday, it is simply a matter of
choosing an appropriate target to convince them we have the capability.
What should our target be? Well here, gentlemen, are the five major
atmospheric generation plants on Mars.” He turned to the map and pointed
out five places--two in the northern hemisphere, two near the equator,
and one in the southern hemisphere. “Each is valued at two billion
solars and would take several years to replace. The damage won’t
bankrupt the government, but the expense is far from negligible! Even
more importantly, when they are destroyed, Starlight Enterprise’s
terraformation project will suffer a severe setback--possibly as much as
three to four years. Now, data gathered from analysis has shown that
these plants can be removed very easily by the proposal we have
suggested. Mr. Crass, do you have anything to add?”
“No, Mr. Zimbardo. I’ve checked the specs on the asteroids you’ve
selected and I’ve checked progress with what Stubb is doing. If he has
the propulsion units ready in ten days, we can deliver our first package
to Mars in precisely two weeks.”
A muscular man in short sleeves spoke up. Since no one else wore short
sleeves, everyone suspected that he wore his sleeves short to show off
his biceps. “Lurton--what about the ships that went to interrogate Vly?
We know five took off, and yesterday I only saw one return. No one else
wants to ask about it, but I’m asking. If I’m going to risk my men and
my ships on this venture of yours, I want to know what’s involved.”
As the man was speaking, Gene lowered his head and kept his eyes on the
floor.
“All right, Captain Kimball. It’s a fair question. You’re right. Five
went out and only one returned. None of the men was lost--the returning
ship brought them all back. But four of the ships were destroyed before
they could land on Montezuma’s Castle.” Zimbardo’s five lieutenants were
already aware of the setback. The visitors, Jeff Jenner and Lorry, were
stunned. Kimball grunted, as if a suspicion had been confirmed.
“Well?” he pressed, his face hard and demanding.
“Gene,” said Zimbardo, turning away. He didn’t like to deliver news of
defeat.
“The pilots of the ships tell essentially the same story,” began Gene.
“They came directly to Montezuma’s asteroid, opened communications, and
insisted that they were going to land. There was no response. But within
seconds some kind of energy beam came forth from Adamant, the
neighboring asteroid, and sliced the four ships into small sections. It
was clear that there was no intention to kill any personnel--only to
destroy the ships. The crews were left floating in space. Forces of some
kind we are not familiar with pulled them into the proximity of the
remaining ship, where they were taken aboard. Clearly, against forces
like that we are helpless. The ship returned immediately. The men are
badly shaken.”
Kimball grunted again. “And Vly?”
Zimbardo answered. “They never talked to him. But we don’t need him. A
short time after this incident he radioed to St. George and we
intercepted the beam. We’d been looking for it. Vly probably assumed
that with the destruction of our landing party he was safe and so was
St. George. But his call went directly to asteroid Z25. It was encrypted
so we couldn’t read it, but we didn’t have to know what the message was
to know where it went. Our other five ships were two days away from the
location. They went directly there and picked up all the miners,
including St. George, in a very neat operation.”
The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Zimbardo?”
“Yes, what is it?” he responded with obvious irritation.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but you asked to be informed as soon as the
ships returned. The _Silver Cloud_ and its four companion ships are
expected to dock in approximately 45 minutes.”
“Very good!” Zimbardo’s initial irritation was instantly dispelled.
“Tell Mr. Lather to put the prisoners into the cell block. I will deal
with them later.” The intercom went off and Zimbardo turned back to the
gathering. “As you heard, St. George will be on the asteroid within the
hour.”
There were nods around the table. Many questions were asked about the
destruction of the four ships near Montezuma’s Castle, but there were no
answers. The issue was left unresolved; Zimbardo, however, was not
saying everything he suspected. He was frightened, but determined that
no one would know it. He had heard of the legend of the greegles and
took it more seriously than anyone would ever suspect.
* * * * *
Richard Starlight’s spacious office was located near the top of the
highest tower on the Moon, the giant SE headquarters building located
forty miles north of Amundsen City. Accessible only by two express
elevators, his office covered nearly an entire floor of the tower--more
than 3,000 square feet. Its walls were treated glass, harder than any
metal alloy and impervious to the constant rain of micro-meteorites,
with clarity which was nearly perfect. The office was the equivalent of
121 stories above ground level, and only an observation deck and various
antennae were above it. The lunar landscape was visible for miles in
every direction. The pass which marked the entrance to the Field of
Obsolescence was barely visible ten miles away just a little east of
north.
What he called his “office” was really a combination laboratory,
resource library, work and communications center, and lounge. In one
corner was a huge table, made of artificial material but, apart from
chemical analysis, not distinguishable from highly polished mahogany.
Its chairs matched its reflective sheen. Table and chairs rested on an
intricately patterned carpet that measured at least twenty by
twenty-five feet. Patterns in cerulean blue, silver, and gray, with
flecks of green and violet beautifully complemented the lunar gray
visible through the windows. Not far from the table was an immense,
detailed globe of the Earth, about four feet in diameter and perfectly
balanced. Equally detailed globes of the Moon and Mars on the same scale
were nearby. In another corner were globes of Mercury and Venus and a
few other celestial bodies.
“I’m sorry to put an end to the festivities this way, gentlemen,” said
Richard Starlight to the assembly. Around the table were the President
of the United States and three of his advisors, among whom were
Commander John Lewis of Space Command. Richard’s second-in-command, John
“Rock” Rwakatare, head engineer of the Advanced Design Department of SE
was also present, as were Allen Foster, Keith Seaton, and Charlie
Taylor, the fathers of the three Starmen. Robert Nolan, founder of Nolan
Mining Enterprises and a friend and colleague of Richard Starlight, and
his second-in-command Beowulf Denn filled out the number.
On two viewscreens were stationary images of Oritz Konig on Mars, and
Steve Cliff en route to the Moon from the Asteroid Belt. The time delay
for Konig was a little more than fifteen minutes, and for Cliff was
about 22 minutes, so they could not actively participate in the
discussion. Both, however, had vital reports to make and Richard was
prepared to present them by videotape at the right time.
Richard continued. “We all expected that our three Starmen would be back
with us in two days for the Reception of Honor. That will have to be
postponed. Most of you know at least something of the reason why, but
this urgent meeting was called to make sure that everyone is brought up
to date and, more importantly, to take counsel on a course of action.”
Richard summed up what had been learned about the pirates after the
liberation of Mars up to the point of the Starmen’s departure from Oritz
Konig’s office.
“Our conclusion is that, although we have 542 men in custody in Eagle
City, including their captain Troy Putnam, several dozen pirates are
still free. It would have taken a large facility to prepare the ships
and house the men used in the assault on Mars, and it is virtually
certain that a sufficient force for maintaining this operation was left
at their base. We believe that this was probably a minimal number, but
there may have been pirates in other locations in the Asteroid Belt or
elsewhere. Moreover, as you know, one ship managed to escape from Mars
during the liberation. Oritz Konig, now on special assignment at Mars
Base, will make a report on what we’ve learned about Putnam’s chief
assistant, Lurton Zimbardo.”
By pre-recorded videotape, SE’s Chief of Security presented a brief
report, similar to that which he had given to the Starmen.
At its conclusion, Richard continued. “Since the ship that escaped
headed recklessly at its highest velocity toward a certain area of the
Belt, we can reasonably assume that the pirates’ base is situated on an
asteroid not far from that area.”
Nolan asked, “Why were the ships from Space Command not able to find
this asteroid, or any trace of the pirates?” Robert Nolan was a man of
early middle age, slight of build, with thinning hair. He was noted for
his analytical mind and incisive decisions. His hard work over a
twenty-year span had built a small company into an influential
corporation, and his achievements had brought him respect throughout the
Inner Planetary system.
“This is what we are gathered here to reveal,” Richard answered. “I’m
afraid the news is quite disturbing. Steve Cliff will give us his
report.”
By videotape, Steve Cliff reported what he had seen in the area of Z25.
He concluded, “So it is obvious that the pirates have a very effective
radar bender. Their ships are, in effect, invisible to our standard
radar detection systems.”
When Steve’s report was over, Richard added, “Steve Cliff was immensely
helpful when we sent the two Starmen to Mars. He did us another favor by
following them as far as Z25 when he preferred to return to Earth. He is
on his way back to Earth now. Oritz asked him to keep an eye on the
Starmen for their own safety, and as you can tell from his report it was
a very good thing indeed that he did!”
The men at the table looked grim. The fathers of the Starmen wore
especially troubled expressions.
“Our battle with the pirates is not yet over, I’m afraid,” continued
Richard Starlight. “Their radar bender is nearly perfect. The notion of
developing a technique that makes an object invisible to radar is not
new, of course, but in spite of several decades of effort even Starlight
Enterprise has not been able to achieve the high level of effectiveness
Zimbardo’s men have available to them. From these observations we draw
two disquieting conclusions.
“First, we learned from the pirates we captured on Mars that their base
is probably invisible to radar; it can’t be seen with normal methods.
It’s likely that the pirates have outfitted _all_ their ships with the
device that makes objects invisible to radar, not just the five Steve
Cliff observed. If so, their ships can be anywhere without the
possibility of any of our bases or centers of civilization being aware
of them until they become visible to the eye. Since all our computers
track ships and contribute toward strategic battle decisions based on
radar data, it is almost impossible to guard against such pirate raids
as Zimbardo’s men are now able to carry out--and have already done on
Z25.” Richard sighed.
“Second, and most alarming of all, it is almost impossible for the
pirates to have invented the radar bender on their own. We had surmised
this shortly after our first conversations with the captive pirates on
Mars, but since then our computer has estimated the chance that they did
so to be approximately 0.0001%. That kind of technology is beyond any
earthly scientific capability. It is much more likely that they got it
from some alien civilization--a highly advanced alien civilization.
“We don’t have any solid information other than that, so we can only
guess what level of connection there may be between any such
hypothetical civilization and the pirates. At any rate, where the radar
bender came from, other devices might come too--military devices against
which Earth has no defense. And we have no idea when we will learn the
pirates’ next move, and we don’t know where the Starmen are now.”
The room was silent. Everyone was stunned. When Mars was liberated they
had thought that the conflict was at an end. Now they saw that their
situation was more desperate than they thought possible.
After a moment, Robert Nolan spoke up. His eyes were wide and his voice
was high-pitched. “Wh--, what can we do? Can’t we find these pirates?
Can’t we just send out ships and comb the entire area of the Belt where
they disappeared? Can’t we...?”
Keith Seaton broke in. “Robert, believe me, if there were _anything_ we
could do, _anything_ we could think of that wouldn’t be the equivalent
of running around in circles, we’d be doing it! The Starmen are our
sons! Richard informed us last night that they were captured, and we’ve
done just about nothing else but try to think of something we can do.”
Allen Foster joined in. His voice was level and determined, clearly
being controlled with supreme effort. “It is impossible to do a random
search of the Asteroid Belt--even if we restrict our search to the
section where the hidden base must lie. We’ve done the math. We may as
well be looking for a black marble hidden at night anywhere in North
America.”
“And invisible ships!” Nolan gasped. “The Solar System has no defense
against anything like that. Why, they could come in anywhere and invade!
They’d be invincible! We couldn’t even see what hit us!”
Commander Lewis spoke up. “And an alien civilization! They could have
science beyond what we can imagine. Earth doesn’t stand a chance against
an enemy like that!” The men were scared.
After a moment when no one else addressed the gathering, the President
spoke. “Our position is essentially the same as it was when Mars was
still in the control of the pirates. Our strength does not lie in
superior science or in superior numbers. Troy Putnam recently placed his
trust in superior strength and technology; the unsoundness of such a
hope is shown by his fall. David fought Goliath and won because his
trust was in the right place. Zimbardo might have weapons and other
technology of which we cannot even conceive and he might do great
damage, but he is still in the wrong. Evil might have its day, but in
the end it will always fall; the forces of light will overcome it as it
decays from within. With that faith and that assurance, we can make our
plans. Does anyone have a suggestion as to how we can meet this crisis?”
Allen Foster spoke again. “There are two issues here: finding and
rescuing the Starmen and their companions, and defending our
civilization from the pirates. For the first, well, we’re very hopeful
that they are still alive because they were taken aboard the pirates’
ship before the base on Z25 was destroyed. They are resourceful young
men--they are Starmen, after all.
“For the second, any solution I’m afraid will be long-term. We’ll have
to develop a detector that uses a process other than radar--perhaps
something based on gravity or light absorption. But you can appreciate
the obvious fact, I’m sure, that inventing such machinery will probably
take a very long time. No, I think that our course now must be entirely
defensive. We are, at least, forewarned. But I’m sure that the pirates
will be making the next move before we can do anything about it.”
7: Prisoners on the Pirates’ Asteroid
“WHAT’S the word for ‘walk’?” asked Mark.
“Gentrikian,” answered Zip automatically.
“That makes forty-seven points for you,” said Joe. “I need fifteen more
just to catch up. C’mon Mark, give me an easy one--help me out.”
“Okay. Do you want English to Titanian or Titanian to English?”
“Titanian to English. That’s easier.”
“K’intrishian.”
Joe thought for a moment. Languages seemed to come easily to Mark--he
could absorb concepts and find mental hooks to hang them on with no
noticeable effort at all. Joe found languages far more difficult. He
preferred engine diagrams and flow charts.
“I don’t know!” The lean pilot blasted, exasperated. The Starmen, like
the crew from Z25, were passing time as they entered the third day of
their captivity aboard the _Silver Cloud_. Mark was teaching Zip and Joe
some of the Titanian vocabulary he’d been working on for two years.
“This one should be easy for you, Joe, even if it isn’t ‘sleep’ or
‘eat.’ The answer is just about all we’ve been able to do on this trip
so far.”
“Well, sleeping and eating is all we’ve done!”
“‘K’intrishian’ means ‘wait.’”
Joe grinned. “We’ve certainly been doing a lot of that on this outing!
The past couple of weeks have seemed about pointless! Just about all
we’ve been doing is bouncing from place to place! We blasted off from
Eagle City to the Asteroid Belt and then went right back to Mars. Then
back to Ceres in the Asteroid Belt. Then to Montezuma’s Castle and on to
Z25, and we complete our mission just in time to get captured by the
enemy! Now we’re being taken to this ‘secret asteroid’ where Lurton
Zimbardo has his base and I’ll bet anything we’re going right back to
where we started--where we lost track of that ship we were chasing into
the Belt!”
An announcement came through the intercom. “Prepare for deceleration in
two minutes.”
The Starmen looked at one another, then at the crew of Z25. St. George
was already walking toward his acceleration couch. Each of them could
feel his heart suddenly beating a little faster. They strapped
themselves into their couches. Zip looked out of the window but saw
nothing out of the ordinary.
A moment later, the rockets on the _Silver Cloud_ ignited and the ship
began to slow. About half an hour later, the had slowed to a crawl and
the view of the stars disappeared. It became apparent to the prisoners
that they had entered a tunnel. After a few seconds, the ship touched
down and secured itself to the landing pad. The prisoners waited. No one
spoke.
Minutes passed, then the door to their quarters opened. Spelford stood
in the opening, with several other men behind him. All were armed.
“Time to go,” Spelford announced. The prisoners were escorted single
file through the ship and down the access ladder to the floor of the
landing pad. They were under observation at all times by armed men in
front of them and behind.
Joe reached the bottom of the ladder and turned to look around. To his
right was an enormous clear wall which sealed off the landing area from
the immense tunnel through which the ships had come. In front of him and
to his left was a complex of charcoal-dark structures, lined with silver
trim and glinting with many panels of glass. The entire area was
powerfully lit by dozens of sources hundreds of feet above him. He was
both impressed and intimidated at the same time.
As soon as the prisoners had debarked from the _Silver Cloud_, Spelford
began giving orders.
“Move. This way. Stay in single file.”
The line crossed the field and passed through a second airlock. Leaving
the field behind, they entered a large manufacturing area. Several dozen
men were working feverishly at massive tables and work centers. Sparks
from welding areas were visible in the back parts of the area. Flashing
lights from many desks lit up the faces of men with intent gazes, whose
attention was fixed on close work on numerous small circuit boards. A
few workers glanced curiously at the line of prisoners, but they didn’t
waste time on a thorough investigation of the newcomers.
Spelford and his detail escorted the prisoners through an immense double
door, down a wide passageway, and into a large elevator. The elevator
could accommodate fifty men easily. When all were inside, Spelford
tapped a number into the control pad and the elevator began to descend.
It stopped in seconds and the door opened into an area where several
corridors came together. Two small elevator doors flanked the one from
which the men emerged. The procession entered a dimly-lit corridor that
extended for about a hundred yards. Many doors were set into the walls,
but none was open.
Spelford led the way down the corridor. After covering about two-thirds
of the distance, he stopped and slid open a plain, dark portal set into
the right side of the passage. He glanced into the room beyond, then
stepped back and said, “In here.” The prisoners entered, and the door
closed behind the last one.
George St. George broke the silence. “We’re not going to be able to
absquatulate from these pirate yaps very easily, that’s for sure. Guess
we’ll have to make the most of our stay here.”
Zip strode into the center of the room and looked around. Indirect
lighting provided plenty of illumination. “Clearly a dormitory of some
sort,” he observed to no one in particular. Bunk-style beds were spaced
around the walls. Through another door was a resting area with tables
and chairs. In another room were washing facilities. On one side of the
main room was a large window which overlooked the landing area and
primary work center of the asteroid.
Joe and Mark strode over to the window and looked out. “The rotation of
the asteroid provides the equivalent of gravity,” observed Joe. “About
what we’re used to on the Moon--about one-sixth Earth. What do you
think, Mark?”
“Feels like a little less to me,” answered Mark. “We’ll have to step up
our exercises if we’re going to maintain muscle tone.”
“Nothing fancy, but everything we need,” said one of St. George’s men
after a quick look around the rooms.
“For a long stay, maybe,” said another.
“‘K’intrishian’ means ‘wait,’ if I remember correctly, Mark,” said Joe.
“That’s thirty-three points for you,” responded the tall Starman.
* * * * *
Time passed. From the window in the wall of the asteroid, the three
Starmen looked down and saw a buzz of activity. About two dozen ships
were docked on the field, and workers were still hovering around tables
in the work center.
“Here comes another one,” said Joe, as a spacecraft passed into view
from the large tunnel that led to the outside.
“How many is that since we’ve been here?” asked Mark. “Six?”
“Yes, six in less than twenty-four hours,” stated Zip.
The Starmen chafed under the burden of their powerlessness. They had
already scoured the rooms carefully and found no sign of weakness they
could exploit. Their food was delivered through an automated shaft that
they could find no way of using as an escape route. They had neither
seen nor spoken to anyone since Spelford had brought them to their
prison.
Once again Zip looked out the window. “This place is amazing! This could
not have been anticipated by anyone! It must have been quite a shock
when you found this asteroid, George.”
“Oh yes, I was awestruck, completely, absolutely electrified! Imagine
stepping into a remnant of an astounding civilization like this. When I
found it, it was abandoned. It seemed as if no one had been in it for
probably thousands of years.”
“Tell us everything you know about this place,” ordered Zip, looking
intently at the asteroid miner and drawing him over to the nearest
table. Zip gently eased the miner into a chair, then turned another
chair around and sat in it, folding his arms over its back and facing
George. The asteroid miner told the Starmen the story of his discovery
of the asteroid and how Troy Putnam had learned about it. They had
already heard a brief version of the story from Oritz Konig back at Mars
Base.
“Of course, I didn’t know this Putnam was a bad egg at the time. He just
seemed like a friendly, curious spaceman to me.”
“What about the asteroid?” pressed Joe. “What have you figured out about
the race that built it?”
“As I said, the asteroid was abandoned when I ran across it, but whoever
built it couldn’t have been too different from us. Same body type, same
size, that’s obvious. Look around you--beds, chairs, everything, just
the way we’d make them. Their language was quite different, though. Took
me a long time to learn how to use some of their stuff.”
“How’d you learn your way around here?”
“When I first came upon the asteroid, the airlock was open. A huge
orifice, made for spaceships, as you can tell. I came through and
landed. Went through one of the airlocks into the building portion here,
where we are now, and just explored. Trial and error. It’s not too
difficult to get the basics down-opening and closing doors, and all
that. Then figuring out the right mix of atmosphere. I had plenty of
time. I got access to the first four or five stories, but I’m pretty
certain the place is much bigger than that. At first, I couldn’t get any
further than the first few stories, but after a while I found my way
around a couple of deeper sections.”
“And then?”
“What do you mean, ‘and then’? I got bored with it and moved on. I’m a
miner, not an explorer or a settler or a scientist. There’s nothing here
but iron. I told a few people about it but nobody much believed me or
cared until this Troy Putnam fellow I met in Yellow City. He’s the only
person who got excited about it, so when he asked me to bring him here,
I did it, as I said. Why not? He paid my expenses for the trip, and a
little more besides for my time. He was impressed with the place, as was
I. Then I went looking for uranium and he went back to Ceres. Never saw
him again.”
Zip pursed his lips, and his brow furrowed under his red hair--a common
expression for the leader of the Starman team. “This has to explain why
Zimbardo was looking for you,” he said. “No one outside the pirates
knows as much as you about his asteroid. That didn’t seem to bother Troy
Putnam, but Zimbardo must consider you a threat. But I can’t understand
why he has taken us prisoner. Zimbardo has no heart of mercy whatever. I
would have expected him just to silence you for good. Obviously he is
preparing this place for some new and big enterprise and is probably
occupied, but now I think we’ll be hearing from him before too long.
Before that happens, I think we’d better be gone.”
“Escape? You talking about escape, Zip? From here?” asked Joe with
amazement.
Zip addressed St. George. “Tell us everything you know about how this
asteroid works. Leave out no detail whatever. Everything you can
remember. Joe and Mark, pay close attention! We have to come up with a
plan!”
* * * * *
A full day had passed since Richard Starlight had called the special
meeting in his office in the towers of Starlight Enterprise. Now he sat
silent and alone in one of the chairs around the great table. Suddenly
he spun the chair around and stared through the clear wall in front of
him. His gaze went far past the lunar mountains into the distant sky
where Mars was just rising, a tiny red point.
The President had issued his commands earlier that morning. A secret
communication had been issued to the commanding officers of all the
bases of Space Command. A similar message had been sent to the heads of
large commercial enterprises such as Starlight Enterprise and Nolan
Mining Enterprise, as well as the local authorities of population
centers in the Asteroid Belt and on Mars. The communication had provided
what information was known about the threat that the pirates manifested.
It ordered Space Command and urged the private parties to keep the
information secret so as to avoid panic and to prevent the pirates from
learning that their sheathing apparatus had been observed in action, and
advised all parties to prepare for any attack the pirates may launch.
They were put on high alert for visual attack and to be ready for
instant defensive response.
In Amundsen City, Keith Seaton sat at his desk, scanning the Asteroid
Belt with his telescope. His strong build filled the chair in which he
sat.
“There’s Ceres,” he said quietly as the image of the Belt’s largest
asteroid came up on the screen. Charlie Taylor and Allen Foster, who
were sitting next to him, nodded. The fathers of the three Starmen
weren’t conversing much that night, but all were greatly comforted by
each other’s presence.
On Ceres, Sim Sala Bim received the encrypted message on tight beam, and
felt immense sadness come over him as he read it. “Where are those three
young Starmen now?” he wondered.
In the laboratories of Starlight Enterprise’s main center on the Moon,
scientists were working around the clock to devise a method by which
their ships could track distant objects by sight instead of radar.
Additionally, under a very rare Presidential command, technicians were
working frantically under Earth’s pre-eminent astrophysicist, Stephen
Hoshino, trying to devise an advanced means of detecting a ship that was
invisible to radar.
The Inner Planetary system was waiting for a strike which its defenders
knew would surely come--but not when, where, or how.
8: The Starmen Strike!
ALMOST an hour had gone by since George St. George had begun to tell the
three Starmen what he knew of the asteroid. Zip, Mark, and Joe had
listened intently, plying the asteroid miner with detailed questions as
he continued his narrative. At last, no one had anything else to say.
“No more questions?” Zip asked. Both Joe and Mark shook their heads.
Their energy level had gone up appreciably since they had sat down with
George. They had become spirited, now that they were determined to find
a plan of escape.
“All right, then. It seems to me that this may be easier than we
thought,” stated Zip.
“You have an idea already?” asked Joe, with a slight turn of his head.
“It seems obvious that this asteroid was not intended to house
prisoners. This room we’re in is not a cell block--it’s a dormitory.”
“Right,” said Mark. “Therefore the locking mechanism is not original to
the asteroid’s design. Is that where you’re going, Zip?”
Zip smiled. “Keep going,” he nodded.
“Whoever made this asteroid was far in advance of our science and it’ll
probably be a long time before we, or anyone else, learn how to alter
their design. But the locking mechanism was most likely put in by the
pirates, probably on short notice. It can’t be too sophisticated a
system. Again, since this is a dormitory and not a cell, the wiring is
probably on this side of the door rather than in the hallway. Let’s find
where the pirates rewired the door. Whatever they can do, we can undo.”
The Starmen leaped up and began to investigate the door and the walls
near it very carefully. Now that they had some idea of what they were
looking for, they hoped it would be easier to find an access panel of
some kind which their previous general search had missed. Minutes passed
with no result. The walls had no apparent seams, and the door was set
into the framework so closely that there seemed to be no space between
the door and the edge of the wall into which it slid.
“Try the floor,” suggested Joe. Mark dropped down and scanned the floor
minutely. Joe moved farther to the right and Zip to the left of the
door, their fingers moving gently over the surface looking for some kind
of irregularity.
St. George watched them with a mix of curiosity and amazement on his
face. His men sat at the tables playing games, paying the Starmen little
heed. Once in a while one looked up, then turned back to his game.
Others napped on the sofas.
“Look here,” said Mark. Zip and Joe came over to see what he had found.
“What do you see?” he asked them, sitting back on his heels.
“Where?” asked Joe.
“You find it--see if I’m right,” answered Mark.
Joe pursed his lips and squinted. Zip watched carefully. George appeared
almost impassive, but inside his heart was beating faster.
“I see it,” observed Joe after a minute.
“What?” burst out St. George, then looked almost sheepish for showing
his excitement.
“The light reflects off this patch here just a little differently from
the rest of the floor. It’s a perfect square about, oh, fifteen inches
on a side.”
“Right,” said Mark.
“How do we open it--if it’s a panel, that is?” asked Joe. He pushed the
corners, tried sliding the panel in every direction, bounced the square
with his fingers, all with no result.
“Let me try,” said Mark. He laid his hand gently on top. In a few
seconds there was a click and the square lifted up an inch, supported by
a small, spring-loaded shaft in the center. Mark lifted the panel off
and revealed a recess filled with finely detailed circuit boards. Over
and around them were a few dark wires that obviously did not belong to
the original design.
Joe snorted. “How did you do that?”
“Well, I thought that it had to be some sort of radiation that would
open it. There were no obvious signs of physical fasteners like screws.
So I figured it had to be magnetism, or light, or maybe heat. I thought
body heat would be the easiest to try, so I laid my hand on it,
concentrated, and made it warm, and it opened!”
“Good work, Mark, but let’s not waste time! We’re in a hurry now,” urged
Zip. “What do you see in there Joe?” By now George and several of his
men had come over and were watching over the shoulders of the Starmen.
“Yeah, really simple circuit. I can disconnect it in a minute even
without tools and we can be out the door.” Joe reached in.
“Wait!” Zip grabbed Joe’s wrist. “Is there any evidence that the circuit
is tied into a larger system, like a master computer, that would tip
anyone off that the door has been opened?”
Joe peered into the aperture and carefully traced the wiring.
“Sorry, Zip. Sorry, everybody,” he said, chagrined. “You’re right. There
is. But I can fix that too.” He reached in and twisted two wires
together. “Okay, that should bypass the door circuit and tell the master
computer that the door is still closed. I can open the door now. Are you
ready?”
Zip stood up. “There are fourteen of us. We don’t know where to go once
we’re free, so I’d like George to lead us. He’s been through the
asteroid. Take us somewhere, George, where we won’t be found easily.”
George shook his head in a big arc. “Now Zip, I haven’t been on this
chunk for over fifteen years. I’m not real sure where to go!”
“George, no one else has been on the asteroid at all. There’s no one but
you.”
The asteroid miner looked down, dejected. “I don’t like any of this. But
you’re right. Okay. We’ll go out the door and back to the elevators.
We’ll take the one on the left. I’ll take us to a floor one level down,
then through a huge storeroom. On the other side are other corridors.
I’ve been through there, and there are places to hide and more elevators
to get us other places on the asteroid. After that I’m not sure. Maybe
I’ll remember when we get there.”
“Everyone got that?” said Zip. “Stay together and move quickly.” No one
had anything else to say. Zip turned to Joe.
“Let’s go,” decreed Zip. Joe removed one end of a black wire and touched
it to another terminal. The door slid open.
Outside was a scene that none of the Starmen had expected. Two pirates,
dressed in their gray and black uniforms, were seated opposite one
another at a small table on the far side of the corridor. The one on the
right was a well-muscled, large man with dark hair, weighing well over
200 pounds; the other was blond, of medium build. He was leaning on his
elbow, pondering his next move in a board game. When the door slid open,
they both looked up, utter surprise written over their faces.
Both the Starmen and the pirates froze for a split second, then both
sides moved at once. Mark charged for the big man and Joe for the blond.
Simultaneously the huge pirate bellowed and threw the table toward the
charging Starmen, scattering the game pieces. Mark stopped the flying
table without slowing his pace and slammed it hard back at the pirates,
legs first. The blond man managed to evade the table, but the big pirate
took two table legs on his left thigh and upper chest. He groaned, and
the laser pistol he had been drawing was caught behind the table. Mark
quickly threw the table upside-down to his left, reached with both hands
for the pirate’s right arm, and pulled the man quickly down and toward
himself. His right knee came up and caught the man in the solar plexus.
The pirate went down with a whoosh of air and lay still. Mark picked up
his pistol.
Meanwhile, the blond pirate had screamed for help in a panicky voice,
turned, and was dashing down the corridor toward the elevators. Joe took
hold of the table’s leg nearest him and skated the table forcefully down
the corridor after the escaping pirate. It caught the man behind his
left ankle as he was running. In the low gravity, the pirate turned
almost completely over, his pistol flying. Joe caught up with him and
delivered a quick punch that rendered the man unconscious. The entire
fight had taken less than ten seconds.
Zip stepped into the corridor calmly. “Did either of them have a chance
to set off an alarm?”
“I think this one did,” responded Joe, pointing to the fallen pirate at
his feet and picking up his laser pistol. “He had about five seconds
while he was running to send an emergency call.”
Zip grimaced. “That was stupid. I should have thought that they would
have a guard. I just didn’t think of it, with all the electronic
gadgetry around here and their obvious need of manpower. My fault.
Sloppy thinking. But it’s worse to stand here and feel badly about it.
We’ve got to disappear fast.”
“This way!!” shouted George and began to run toward the elevator. The
asteroid miner who had previously been so sedate and hesitant now led
the way. The Starmen followed him and the ten others brought up the
rear. George reached the elevator door and pressed the panel. In seconds
a door opened and the men hurried in. Just as the last man rushed
through the opening and the doors began to close, the elevator doors in
the next shaft opened and a troop of pirates poured out, guns drawn. In
front of them they saw their two comrades lying motionless in the
corridor, table and chairs in full disarray.
“Come on!” commanded their leader, leaping forward and turning toward
his men to enforce his order. His eyes opened wide as he saw the doors
of the adjacent elevator closing on the escaped prisoners. The Starmen’s
last view of the scene was the pirate leader’s shocked face, mouth
agape, pulling his laser pistol up to fire. Then their doors sealed and
they began to descend.
Almost instantly, it seemed, the door opened. The only light came from
the interior of the elevator. It shone on an uncountable number of
enormous crates, stacked three high and set in rows extending beyond the
range of the minimal light. Though the walls of the room could not be
seen, there was a distinct feeling that the open space was huge--larger
than a gymnasium, perhaps larger than a stadium. No one said a word. No
one moved.
Suddenly Zip grabbed the laser pistol that Joe was carrying and leaped
out of the elevator. He whipped around and fired at the control panel
next to the large central elevator. The panel flared red for a second
and then sparked like fireworks. Zip released the activation trigger on
the pistol and stepped back. A few pops echoed in the darkness against a
background of the soft sizzling sound of molten metal dripping down the
wall.
Zip ran to the third elevator, calling out, “Move away from the
elevator! Mark, destroy the controls!” Simultaneously Mark and Zip
demolished the control panels of the remaining two elevators. When the
controls were obliterated, the lights in the elevator went out and the
fourteen erstwhile prisoners stood in the utter darkness of the immense
chamber. The sole illumination was provided by the fading red glow of
the superheated panels that had been their targets and a few bright
orange dots in the gaping holes that remained.
“I don’t know if that’ll prevent the pirates from stopping at this
floor, but every elevator on Earth I know about can’t move beyond any
floor where the controls are inoperable. George! Where do we go?” Zip
asked.
“Does anyone have a light?” responded the asteroid miner. Just then a
pale glow like early dawn rose around them and filled the chamber.
“What’s that?” cried a frightened voice.
“Automatic lighting, probably,” answered Joe. “When someone moves far
enough away from the elevator, or when its light goes out, the automatic
lighting goes on.”
“Follow me,” directed George. He led the procession to the right of the
elevator shafts. On one side was a blank wall at least 25 feet high. On
the other were row upon row of crates. Each box had a mark on it, but
none of the Starmen could recognize its meaning. Far down the rows was
the opposite wall of the chamber, at least 200 yards away.
George St. George was hurrying, leading the band of fourteen onward.
There was no opportunity for conversation, but Mark stepped up close to
Zip, who had taken the last position in the march.
“Think what this place is, Zip!” the mystically-oriented Starman
breathed, his eyes alight with excitement. “This was made by an
intelligent, extra-terrestrial race we’ve never heard of! The Titanians
certainly didn’t make it! And whoever made it was shaped just like us!
As George said before, the controls, the beds, the chairs--all are
designed for people like us! Same size! And _imagine_ what must be in
these storage units!”
“I have been thinking about it, Mark,” answered Zip. “I’ll want more
time later to sift through my impressions, but there are too many
questions here to deal with at the pace we’re going.”
“Of course, but think! Who made this place? How big is the complex? When
and why did they abandon it? Where are they now?”
“Yes--and above all, what else will we find in here?”
Just then the screech of tortured metal sounded loudly throughout the
chamber. Everyone turned and stared back at the elevators, where the
sound was coming from. A spot on the left door of the central elevator
began to glow red, then orange, then white. Iridescent metal began to
spew forth in chunks. Then a spherical mechanism about the size of a
basketball shot through the hole. A few bright green and yellow lights
the size of small coins lit up its dull silver surface.
Zip’s blood ran cold. “It’s an airbot!” he cried. Zip had never seen an
airbot before, but he knew what it was: an aerial reconobot, an armed
robotic flying device which, among other uses, could be programmed to
track down fugitives, drawn by their body heat. Zip and Mark lifted
their laser pistols and fired simultaneously. Their beams lit up red
dots on the surface of the flying ball but scattered harmlessly, as the
Starmen assumed they would. The airbot quickly oriented itself to the
escapees and began to fly toward them.
9: A Vision in the Night
“RUN! Go! Scatter! Move!” shouted Zip frantically. He ran forward to the
closest aisle between the stacks of crates, wheeled right, and sped down
the narrow space. He heard the quiet, efficient “zzap” sound of the
airbot’s disabling beam, but apparently not directed toward him yet.
Desperation powered his legs and they pumped at peak speed. He didn’t
know where the others were or what they were doing. Someone else was
racing behind him but he didn’t stop to find out who it was.
It was not cowardice that inspired his flight, but the desire to
preserve the team. Scattering and flying gave a slight hope that some of
the men might escape the relentless search of the airbot--or at least
put off the inevitable. The rotation of the asteroid provided artificial
gravity, but it was low enough to enable the men to move quickly,
covering a lot of distance as they ran.
“Zzap. Zzap,” he heard again, more distant this time. He came to the end
of the aisle and had to slow to keep from slamming into the wall in
front of him. He reached out his left hand and grabbed the corner of a
crate to help him execute the turn. As he made the quick right angle
twist at the end of the row of crates, he glanced behind him with his
peripheral vision. Joe was close behind him and several yards farther
away were two of the miners. Even as he looked, he saw the airbot fly
over the crates into the aisle he had just cleared, missing the ceiling
by less than a foot. With the hated “zzap” sound, it fired one beam
toward the miner at the rear of the headlong retreat, and the man went
limp and collapsed. His momentum carried him forward several feet before
he stopped moving.
Zip saw it all in a split-second as his inertia carried him out of view.
He looked forward again and sped down the aisle; after passing a few
rows he turned again to the left. Far ahead of him he saw the elevator
door with the bulging rupture through which the airbot had burst into
the warehouse. Suddenly the airbot flew over the stack of crates to
Zip’s left and appeared about fifteen yards in front of him. A feeling
of panicky horror surged through Zip as he saw the airbot re-orient
itself in his direction.
All at once every point of light on the airbot went out and it hung
motionless in the air. Then it sped back to the elevator door as if
jerked by a cable. It smashed through the hole it had made and flew into
the shaft. Instantly there was a dull “whump,” more felt in one’s
tissues than heard aloud. A bright light came through the opening like a
spotlight, then faded.
“What happened to the airbot?” Joe’s amazed voice behind him asked the
question that was in Zip’s mind.
“Let’s go,” said Zip. “Let’s find out who’s down and carry them away.”
Both the Starmen were breathing hard, but quickly returned to normal as
they paced the aisles. In moments they had assembled those whom the
airbot had not found. Only four men had been disabled by the airbot’s
beams.
“Take us out of here, George,” ordered Zip. His voice was quiet but
carried the authority of leadership that people welcome when there is a
crisis. Using the fireman’s carry, eight men easily transported the four
who were unconscious.
George St. George turned without a word and led the way. Everyone
followed. St. George came to the end of the walkway and turned to the
left around the last row of storage units. On his right was a bank of
elevator doors, some large and some small. He came to the first one and
with his hand shaking pressed some numbers into a control panel. Nothing
happened.
He looked up to Zip with a countenance marked with anguish and pleaded,
“I can’t do it. My fingers won’t work. Mr. Foster, you press the
numbers, please.” Zip stepped up to the panel. As the asteroid miner
called out the directions, Zip pressed the buttons.
“Top center. Right center. Top right. Top right again. Bottom left.
Center. Sorry, I’m a little shaken up.”
“That’s okay, George. I think we’ll be fine now.” The elevator door
opened and all the men stepped into the conveyance. The door closed.
George reached out and pressed one button. The elevator began to
move--not down or up as the men expected, but _away_ from the chamber
where they had fought the airbot.
“What’s wrong with these men?” asked one of the miners. “They’re
completely unconscious and their arms and legs are swinging around like
they’re puppets or something.”
“They’re just out temporarily, not hurt,” answered Joe. “Airbots disrupt
certain neural connections to bring on sleep and complete relaxation of
all muscle functions. I’m not sure how high the airbot’s beam was set,
but I’d guess pretty high. They’ll probably sleep for several hours but
they’ll be fine when they wake up.”
“What did you do to that machine that was chasing us?” asked another of
St. George’s companions.
“I didn’t do anything to it. I don’t know what happened to it,” answered
Zip. “I suppose it malfunctioned. Lucky for us.” Joe and Mark both
glanced sidelong at Zip, then looked away. The Starmen knew that
whatever had happened to the airbot, a malfunction was not one of the
possibilities.
Another of the miners spoke up. “I’ve never been on an elevator that
moved horizontally before. Where are we going, George? This transit is
taking longer than just moving between floors.”
“The elevators inside this rock can move in just about any direction
except slantindicular. If I remembered accurately, this one’ll take us
to a control and information center of some kind. I don’t know where it
is in relation to where we started, but we should be safe there and if I
don’t forget where we come out, I can always get us back to the
warehouse if we want to return.”
The elevator came to a stop and the door opened onto darkness. As
before, the elevator light illumined a small space, in which the men
could see a few counters. When the first passenger debarked, soft lights
went on. The illumination revealed a room of about 2,000 square feet,
filled with viewscreens, computer stations, cabinets and shelves, tables
and chairs, and a few sofas. At least a dozen doors led from the room.
The four unconscious men were laid carefully down onto the sofas.
“What is this place?” Zip asked St. George.
“Haven’t any idea, Starman. I don’t mind pushing buttons at random when
it comes to elevators, but you won’t find me playing with any machine I
don’t understand. I don’t want to find the ejection seat or rocket
launchers by accident.”
“What do you think, Mark, Joe? Let’s look around here.” The Starmen
began to examine the keyboards and control systems spread throughout the
room. There were symbols written beside most of the controls, but none
of the writing was recognizable.
“Alien writing,” observed Mark. “I’d sure like to know what it says.”
Joe was at the next console, thoughtfully pressing buttons, but there
was no response.
“We need to find food and water,” said one of the others.
“Right,” said Zip. “Everyone check through the shelves and cabinets.
Open the doors, too, and look through, but don’t go anywhere.” Zip
didn’t speak aloud what was on his mind. The workings of the asteroid,
no matter how technologically advanced, had been abandoned for probably
thousands of years. There could be no water or food anywhere except
where the pirates were. The Starmen and miners may have escaped
captivity, but their freedom would do them no good until they found
food, water, and a spaceship. Success in finding even one of those items
without being recaptured was highly unlikely. And even if they could
board a ship, escape from the asteroid was just about impossible. He
wondered how long it would take before someone else realized these
things and voiced them.
“There’s nothing, Mr. Foster,” said one of the men after everyone had
searched thoroughly.
“Mm hmm,” Zip nodded. “Well, let’s sleep and start again in the morning.
Maybe some of us can go back to the warehouse and open up a few of those
crates. There may be food and water in some of them. Others can
investigate some of the passages that lead away from here.”
The men arranged themselves around the room and lay down. “I think I
found the light switch, anyway,” said Joe and pressed a button next to
one of the doorways. The room became dark.
* * * * *
“I assure you, Mr. Zimbardo, there was nothing wrong with the airbot,”
asserted a large man, standing before the pirate leader with a half
dozen of his partners. “I don’t know what threw it back into the
elevator shaft and I don’t know what made it explode--but there was
nothing wrong with it. The prisoners must have done something to it.”
“These prisoners are more than asteroid miners! None of St. George’s men
has the capability of knocking out two armed men the way those two were
knocked out. None of them has the know-how to disable a airbot!”
Zimbardo turned to his chief control officer. “Gene! Get me Lather right
away. Tell him to bring up all information he has on the prisoners he
brought in from Z25. Tell him to bring especially the video-record of
the prisoners.” He turned back to the others. “You’re dismissed!”
Soon Lather appeared with a handful of records.
“Let’s see the video-record first,” said Zimbardo, and pushed his
computer a little closer to his lieutenant. The man inserted the disk.
In seconds, a view of the prisoners appeared on the screen, each one
shuffling by as they entered the _Silver Cloud_.
When all the prisoners had passed by, Zimbardo turned his head down in
disgust. Lather opened a file and brought out another disk. “I’ve got--”
he began.
“You _fool_!!” spat out Zimbardo through gritted teeth. “I don’t need to
see any more! I know who we’ve got now! How could you miss seeing that
the three Starmen who completely destroyed our plans on Mars were your
passengers for three days! _How could you miss it??_” He was shouting
now. “_They’ve been on the news for two weeks! How--_” Zimbardo paused
and tried hard to get control of himself. “They were our _prisoners_!
--and now they’ve escaped! They’re loose inside this asteroid, and we
don’t know where!”
“But sir,” inserted Lather when Zimbardo paused to take a breath and
clutch the air. “There aren’t many places they can hide. There’s not
much to the inside of the complex--only five floors.”
Zimbardo turned to the ship captain. With words that smoldered, he said,
“The complex of this asteroid is far larger than you think! I have
barely begun to explore, and St. George knows more than I do!”
Back in control now, Zimbardo punched his desk communicator. “Gene! Get
a search party together and have them scour every part of the asteroid
they can find.” He filled in the details about the Starmen. But he knew
that neither the miners nor the Starmen would be found. With George St.
George leading them, they could be anywhere--anywhere but where his men
would be able to search.
* * * * *
Mark came out of a deep sleep into a light doze. He knew he was
sleeping, but he was also mindful of his surroundings. It gradually
washed through him that he was hearing voices. Two voices were
conversing in very low tones, far away. He had a feeling that the air
was thick and the sound had to struggle to get to him. He became aware
of his eyelids, and they fluttered. Fully conscious but deeply relaxed
now, he slowly opened his eyes. He saw only darkness, but it was not
absolute.
He turned his head slowly to the left. Through an open door, about
twenty feet away along a corridor were two tall, vaguely humanoid beings
wrapped in shadows. Mark’s heart leaped and began to race, but outwardly
he showed no trace that he was alert. His eyes narrowed in an attempt to
see more clearly. He knew instinctively that the creatures were alien.
They walked in utter silence and stepped into the room. Mark lay frozen.
They looked around for a few seconds, then went back into the corridor
to the place where he had first seen them. They manifested no ill intent
toward the sleepers.
The figures began conversing in low voices. Mark sensed a deep sadness
in their tone. He strained to hear what they were saying, what their
words sounded like.
Suddenly he heard something that sounded familiar. “A coincidence,” he
thought to himself. They couldn’t have said “Zimbardo.” After several
more exchanges, one of the figures pressed a series of buttons on the
wall, next to a blank screen. It came alive with a dull silver glow.
Bright green lines appeared in the configuration of a map or blueprint.
Mark strove to see as well as to hear. Slender fingers pointed to one
part of the screen or another as the conversation continued.
Then he heard it again, this time clearly. “Zimbardo.” Mark lifted his
head a little and turned so he could observe the screen better. “A plan
of the surface control center,” he thought. He recognized the floor plan
by its telltale great doors through which the prisoners had been
marched.
The scene changed as one of the figures pressed a button. A series of
diagrams appeared, diagrams that indistinctly suggested a power plant to
Mark. One of the tall figures began talking animatedly, pointing to
various locations and repeating the word “Zimbardo” frequently.
Suddenly Mark understood what was going on: the aliens were talking
about shutting down the power plant! Mark strained to get a closer look
at the diagram they were examining. “The aliens!” His mind raced. “They
must be the builders of this base! Shutting down the power plant--why,
they must want to stop Zimbardo! They’re on our side!”
Then the other figure spoke up. He seemed to agree with the animated
one, but his voice had a sorrowful tone to it. He pressed a few buttons
on the screen and a picture of a warship appeared. As the alien pointed
to the ship and talked, all the life seemed to drain out of his
companion and he began looking hopeless and despondent. He turned the
screen off.
Mark didn’t understand--what was that ship? Why did it bring such
hopelessness?
As the panel went dark, Mark realized with a crushed heart that, for
some reason, the aliens were not going to deactivate the power plant
after all. He buried his face in his hands. Something was stopping them,
something having to do with the spaceship that had appeared on the
screen last.
Mark looked up and saw that the figures had vanished!
10: Both Sides Move
THE GREAT AIRLOCK on the pirates’ asteroid opened. From the depths of
the abyss five ships came forth. Emerging from the stone tunnel, they
moved into formation and then headed for the Asteroid Belt. Lurton
Zimbardo’s lieutenant Crass held the authority over the small fleet.
Each ship was sheathed with the radar bender, making it invisible to the
normal means of detection used by Starlight Enterprise, Space Command,
and other Earth-based entities.
As the ships came into the Belt, Crass gave the command to the other
four pilots. “The target asteroid has been located. Proceed with the
destruction of the sats.” The sats were small, unmanned electronic
satellite observers, distributed throughout the Asteroid Belt to aid in
research and navigation. They monitored movement in the Belt and
provided constantly updated information on the location, speed, and
direction of major asteroids.
The four ships moved into pre-determined areas in the quadrants around a
small, heavy, black, iron asteroid that was speeding smoothly along on
its course.
Crass stood on the deck of his ship and gazed out at the small asteroid.
He spoke as if to himself. “There it is, the first of five surprise
packages for our beloved Mars.” The pirate leader waited patiently for
the pilots of the four companion ships to report back. He expected that
their assignment would take about 45 minutes--maybe as long as an hour.
The first report came in 42 minutes later.
“Mr. Crass, this is Slant. We located three sats in quadrant two and
destroyed them all.” The other reports came in only moments later. A
total of fourteen sats had been located within 600 miles of the asteroid
where Crass was waiting, and all had been destroyed. Crass opened the
intercom on his own ship.
“We’re clear. Go to it.”
Over a dozen space-suited men spilled out of the airlock. They had been
waiting for the order from Crass. Each carried a large crate, nearly
weightless in the Asteroid Belt. They maneuvered easily through space
and floated gently to the surface of the asteroid--a dark 100-yard wide
clump of dirty rock. Immediately the men began to distribute the crates
evenly over the surface of the rock.
The grim, forbidding, pocked asteroid became the site of frenzied work.
The crewmen removed sheet after sheet of dark metal from the crates and
fastened them to the floating chunk of iron. Tiny flames showed where
the irregular metal of the asteroid was being shaped to fit the plates
the pirates were anchoring to its surface.
In one hemisphere three other men were attaching power and propulsion
units. They sank holes several feet deep and inserted tubes, fuel tanks,
and a control mechanism. At one place near the asteroid’s equator a
technician was installing a communications unit.
The four companion ships had returned and remained on guard less than a
quarter mile from the asteroid. In less than two hours the work on the
asteroid was completed and the crewmen reentered their ship.
“Take us home,” ordered Crass. The five ships left the Belt and began
the quick journey back to their port. Crass smiled most of the way back.
* * * * *
On Mars in the communications tower of Eagle City, technician Mel Golden
was puzzled. Some of his data had just dried up. Mel was responsible for
monitoring the sats in a large segment of the Asteroid Belt, and a
section over a thousand miles in diameter had gone dark. He called to
his superior.
“Will, I’ve got something curious here.” A slender, middle-aged man with
long gray hair walked over to the console.
“What is it, Mel?”
“Look at this. You asked us to report anything out of the ordinary.
Well, occasionally one sat will malfunction, but it looks as if at least
a dozen have stopped reporting all at once. I haven’t plotted out the
details yet, but there’s an entire section of the Belt where nothing’s
happening.”
“When did it start?”
“Just a moment ago. So whatever occurred out there happened
about...”--he thought for a second--“about eleven minutes ago.”
“Thanks, Mel. This could be the surprise we’ve been waiting for. I’ll
report this immediately.” Will went over to the master communicator in
the tower and sent a top priority message to Space Command’s
headquarters on Mars, describing the situation. Space Command
headquarters forwarded the information to its centers on Earth and the
Moon, as well as to Oritz Konig, SE’s Head of Security in Mars Base.
Konig’s report to Richard Starlight included these words: “It looks
probable that the pirates have taken some sort of action in the Belt.
There are no population centers of any size within 10,000 miles of the
place, and no known solitary miners. It’s a completely dead spot, and
sats are spaced very thinly there. Yet fourteen sats in a sphere at
least a thousand miles in diameter were put out within a ten-minute
period. No natural phenomenon can explain that. Space Command has the
closest ship, but it won’t get to the site for a little more than 22
hours. The nearest backup ship is more than three hours after that. SE
doesn’t have a ship of any kind at all within four days of the site, so
we’ll have to depend on Space Command for the first reports.”
* * * * *
“Wake up! Everybody wake up!” Starman Joe Taylor was shouting.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Voices came from several men, jerked awake
by Joe’s outburst.
“Food! There’s food here!” he burst out. “And water! Someone brought us
food and water! Lots of it!”
Within seconds everyone was up and crowding around Joe. Now that he had
roused his companions, he was bent over a half dozen large boxes, one of
which was partially open. He reached in and took out a container filled
with fruit. He handed it to one of George St. George’s men, reached into
the box again, and withdrew a vessel with water in it. It had a spigot
on it as if it were made for traveling. The men began passing it around,
drinking deeply. Joe dug in again and brought out another box. He opened
it and held it up so that others could see. It contained several layers
of items like large crackers.
“Where did it come from, Joe?” Zip asked.
“I don’t know, Zip! I woke up before anyone else and noticed these
crates. I jumped up, looked around but didn’t see anybody. I opened the
first one and saw the fruit. That’s the whole story.”
“You don’t know it’s safe! You took a chance, Joe!”
“What kind of chance, David? Where were we going to find water, much
less food? We were done for without this.”
“Not too much of a chance, I think, Zip,” whispered Mark to the
red-haired Starman. Zip turned his head and looked at Mark curiously.
“The food’s okay. Let the men distribute it and I’ll tell you what I
know.”
“Okay,” Zip nodded. He turned to George. “Let the men take the crates
apart and see what we’ve got here. We’ll eat and then we’ll make plans.”
George took over operations while the three Starmen stepped aside.
“What do you know, Mark?” asked Zip. Mark told the other Starmen what he
had seen in the middle of the night.
“Hmmm. Hard to credit it, that the original builders of this wonder are
still here,” mused Zip. “Why would they let Earthmen come in and take
over? I gather from what we’ve learned and what we’ve overheard that the
pirates have been active here for over a dozen years, and George found
this place over fifteen years ago.”
“The pirates haven’t really taken over, Zip,” said Joe. “It looks as if
they haven’t gone beyond the first few levels! Something’s kept them
out. Only George was able to get beyond the floor where the warehouse
is. Maybe that’s why Zimbardo wanted to find him and keep him alive.
George doesn’t know too much about this, this, I don’t know what to call
this place, but he knows more than any human living.”
“Whatever the truth is, we have some friends,” contributed Mark. “They
don’t want to be seen, but they’ll help us. I’ll bet a golden asteroid
that they’re the ones who destroyed the airbot. I think we need to be
ready to see what happens next.”
“You’re right, Mark,” said Zip. “We’ll have to be prepared to move.” The
Starmen went back to the group. Everyone was seated on the floor or on
chairs, eating a welcome and refreshing breakfast. The four men who had
been rendered unconscious by the airbot had benefited from a good
night’s sleep and were back to normal.
Mark reached into one of the crates and took out one of the items that
looked like a large cracker. He saw that several of the miners were
eating them. Zip had also taken a bite out of one and was chewing
thoughtfully.
“What do you think of these crackers?” Mark asked.
“Survival food,” opined Zip. “The fruit is delicious, though.”
When everyone had finished breakfast, George St. George asked, “What
should we do now, Mr. Foster?”
“I was just going to ask you the same question, George,” answered Zip.
“Let’s get the men together and make some plans.” George called the
miners together. Zip delivered a short speech, informing them that he,
Joe, and Mark were Starmen and gave a brief summary of their assignment.
With a nod, Zip asked Mark to tell what he had seen during the night.
Then a number of men began to ask questions.
All at once the room dimmed. The voices stopped suddenly. After a few
seconds, one of the corridors lit up with a soft, pleasant light.
“That’s the way we go, I think,” said Zip. “Pack up the food.” The
contents of the remaining cartons were distributed among the men and Zip
led the way. He felt more hopeful than he had since the Starmen had
landed on Z25.
The corridor extended for several hundred yards in a straight line. Many
doors and other passages led off in different directions, each marked
with one or more figures, none of which was familiar. The passageway was
plain and utilitarian. After more than five minutes of walking, the men
came to an intersection of passages in a large, faintly illuminated
room. The lights in the corridor faded behind them. Across the room was
a row of elevator doors. A row of lights lit up over one of them. Zip
strode boldly across the floor to the elevator that had been indicated,
and the others followed without a word. When he was within twenty feet
of the door, it opened. After the men entered the compartment and laid
down their burdens, the door closed.
On a control panel, one light gleamed and Zip pressed it. When he had
done so, another light went on. He pressed that one. After he had
pressed six lights, no more came on, and the elevator began to descend.
After about a minute, the movement stopped and a door behind the men
slid open, opposite to that through which they had entered. The men
turned and inhaled sharply.
“Oh my! Oh my!” exclaimed Zip, but no one heard him.
In front of the men was a power plant of impossibly immense size, in
dusky darkness. There were low murmurs as of engines pulsing far away or
of winds passing through trees, but they were quiet sounds. The ceiling
was out of view, lost in blackness above them. A seamless iron floor,
perfectly level, stretched out before the men as far as they could see.
The left wall was beyond their vision; the right wall was about thirty
yards away. Lights were located sparsely throughout the facility.
Gargantuan tubes, gleaming silver in the lights and ribbed like a torso
of a dragon, snaked through a heavy latticework of girders. Iron pipes a
foot in diameter ran by the dozens through the open spaces. There were
catwalks, elevators, and enclosed spiral staircases in strategic places.
Great metal containers bearing dials and lights of various colors took
up much of the space.
“Go,” said Zip. His voice came out as a whisper, which he had not
intended. He swallowed and said it again, a little louder this time. “Go
on, move out. It’s okay.” The men stumbled forward, filled with awe so
overwhelming that it paralyzed their vocal cords.
Finally Joe caught his voice. “This is _great_! Wow! _This is GREAT!
FANTASTIC!!_” He pushed through the miners in front of him and ran
forward about twenty feet. He shouted as loudly as he could. “_HEYYY!!_”
There was no echo. His yell disappeared as if it had been damped. He
suddenly felt chilled and afraid. He turned back to the others and
rejoined the crowd. He sidled over to Mark. “This place is great,” he
whispered with a smile. Mark’s eyes were upturned and shining with
appreciative wonder.
Zip moved to the front of the company. In a quiet but determined voice
he said, “Let’s go. We’ll just follow the main aisle, straight in front
of us.” He began to walk and the others followed. “Don’t forget the
food,” he threw over his shoulder. Two men turned back to retrieve their
supplies and then ran to join the others.
Joe moved up to the front and walked next to Zip. The Starman leader was
setting a brisk pace.
“Isn’t this place fantastic, Zip? Just think of the people who can build
a thing like this!”
“I am thinking of them,” answered Zip. His brow wore the characteristic
furrow that showed he was not completely at ease.
“What’s wrong?” asked Joe, as if he hadn’t a care.
“Something bothers me. Our unseen friends, if they are the ones who
built and maintain this asteroid, are highly advanced
technologically--far in advance of anything we’re likely to achieve for
centuries. But from what Mark told us, it’s obvious that they’re afraid
of something. I can’t see that they’d be afraid of Zimbardo and his
cronies. They’re afraid of something else, something we don’t know about
yet--and that makes _me_ afraid.”
He continued his fast pace and Joe kept up with him, but Joe’s eyes
glanced into the shadows as they walked.
11: An Asteroid is Missing
THERE was a breeze. A very light breeze, a mere breath. Mark could feel
it on his cheek, just a slight chill that was pleasant. He had not felt
air moving since he had been on Mars.
“Surely, the air cannot move in here,” he thought to himself. He lifted
his eyes upward. As he expected, the lights failed before they revealed
the ceiling immensely far above. “How far?” he wondered. “A half a mile?
A mile? More?” The lights looked almost like stars, placed in the
strategic joints and balconied work areas of the monstrous iron
latticework.
The refugees from Lurton Zimbardo’s prison had been walking through the
power plant for some time--long enough to have covered at least a mile,
and probably closer to two. Though the surroundings were obviously
nothing more than the power station of the asteroid, the men were as
hushed as if they were in a cathedral. They were small figures in an
enormous place, reminded of their smallness and overwhelmed with a sense
of the numinous.
Mark sifted through his memories to a time when he was a child of about
six, and his parents had brought him to Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico.
He had stood in an immense room below ground, large enough to contain
several football fields. He had exulted then, identifying for the first
time his restlessness inside, his search for something larger than
himself, something that could fill a universe.
He spoke aloud to no one in particular. “When I was in Carlsbad Caverns
about a dozen years ago, the ranger told us that the temperature inside
the caverns was constant. This is like that.”
“Sure,” responded Joe. “This is a kind of cave. Look at the floor.
Perfectly smooth, like glass. Artificially shaped, of course, and
sealed, but it is the substance of the asteroid--no manufactured
flooring. We must be in the deepest part of the complex here. I feel
almost as if we are on the bottom of an ocean.”
“Joe! Mark!” called Zip from the front of the procession. The men
stopped walking and the two Starmen joined Zip. “Look at that,” said
Zip, with a lift of his chin.
A computer screen about four feet square was set into the side of a
huge, gray fabrication of metal, shaped like a cube at least fifteen
feet on a side and made of thick plates held together with rivets.
Dozens of pipes in a tremendous variety of sizes came into the cube and
extended away, disappearing into the dark distance. Some were the
diameter of soda straws and a few were large enough for a man to crawl
through. Most were as thick as a man’s wrist.
Mark stepped up to the screen at once. Below it was a keyboard without
markings. He pressed the button which was located in the same place on
the board as the button he had seen the midnight visitors press to
activate their screen. A few buttons lit up with tiny green lights, but
the screen remained black. He tried a few more buttons, but there was no
response.
“Nothing doing. If you’d like to take a break here, Zip, I’ll try a few
more combinations. We’re so far away from the surface of the asteroid,
I’m sure Zimbardo will never find us now.” When Mark said “Zimbardo,”
the screen flashed briefly on each syllable.
“Hey!” exclaimed the Starman. The screen flashed again. “Zimbardo!” he
said again, and the screen repeated its performance. “It’s voice
activated! And it recognizes Zimbardo’s name!” Mark tried a series of
standard commands for voice-activated computers, but got no response to
any words other than “hey” and “Zimbardo.”
“Take your time, Mark; I don’t think we’re in a hurry down here,” said
Zip. For half an hour, Mark tried voice commands and combinations of
keyboard strokes, but made no progress.
“This place is oppressive,” said one of the miners, after a long
silence. “I don’t like being closed in by darkness.”
“Right,” said another. “On the asteroids we can see for thousands of
light years, but inside here it seems as if life is swallowed. I feel as
if I’m in something’s stomach.”
“Starman Foster,” said George St. George. “I think we had better move
on. We need to come to the end of this giant room and get back to light
and living quarters of some kind. With all this excitement we’ve had, I
think the men are just about completely exfluncted.”
Zip paused a moment and looked into the distance, then nodded. “Okay,”
he agreed. “This room can’t go on forever. Let’s find the end of it.”
* * * * *
Lurton Zimbardo was in the control center of the asteroid. A small group
of his most trusted assistants stood silently by. Through the wall of
glass on his right he could see the cavern where the pirates’ spaceships
were anchored to the landing field. Five of them were out on assignment
in the Belt. As the work crew on the asteroid was able to produce
sufficient sheathing, power, and propulsion units, a space crew was
assigned the task of outfitting the asteroids that Lurton had previously
chosen.
The first, under the leadership of Crass, had returned that morning.
Another had gone out almost immediately afterward and one more would
depart the next morning. By the end of the following day, the last two
crews would be launched.
Crass’ assignment had included the destruction of the sats while he
performed his task. Now that the pirates knew how easy and fast it was
to complete the work, they did not bother to destroy the sats in the
remaining four sites. Zimbardo knew that the destruction of the sats
would alert Space Command, but the authorities would not be able to stop
the project before his ships returned. Once they learned what he was
doing they would expect that he had only one asteroid to command. The
remaining four would be a shock to them and give him, Zimbardo, a
powerful psychological edge. He would need it for his last demand. Even
his most trusted lieutenants had no inkling of the enormity of his last
ploy.
“Now in contact with G670,” uttered Zimbardo, referring to the asteroid
that Crass and his crew had rigged. The screen was lit up before him.
“Two minutes and four seconds to go from right...now!” A countdown clock
was set at his left. The pirate captain checked his figures one more
time. He had plotted the orbit of Mars, the thrust and direction of the
power units on G670, the speed of the red planet in its course and its
rotation, the anticipated acceleration of the asteroid, and the time
delay involved in making adjustments to its course. He had checked his
computations half a dozen times and then commanded three others to do
so.
Three, two, one... read the countdown clock. Zero. Zimbardo pressed the
button. He remained motionless for at least ten seconds. Then he sat
back and exhaled loudly. He had not noticed that he hadn’t been
breathing. Then he turned and smiled broadly to his audience.
“Five and a half days from now, everyone in the Earth-Moon-Mars system
will know who we are!”
* * * * *
Oritz Konig was making another report to Richard Starlight. “The Space
Command ships came onto the site and found no sign of human presence.
They quickly replaced the sats, got them activated, and then checked
data. I don’t know how to explain it, Richard, but an asteroid is
missing. Other than that, there is nothing different in the area of the
Belt that had gone dark, but obviously the pirates have done something
with an asteroid. It’s not a very big one--only about 100 yards in
diameter, maybe a little more--but it’s vanished.”
* * * * *
The Starmen and miners had been walking more than three hours, and
covered a distance of about ten miles.
“A wall,” announced Zip. “We’ve come to the end of it at last.”
“You’d think that a race that can make elevators go sideways could have
come up with a way to traverse this gymnasium quicker and easier than
walking,” grumbled Joe.
“Didn’t I hear you say that this place is great?” inquired Zip.
“It is. Back then, I meant ‘great’ like ‘magnificent’; but now it just
feels like ‘great’ as in ‘really big.’”
The company came up to the wall. There was a bank of elevators in front
of them and several sets of doors to their right. In a large open
gathering place, there were many platforms like flat beds, with rods
coming out of one end and sticking up perpendicular to the beds.
“Joe,” said Mark, investigating one of the beds. “Here’s your easier way
to travel. These things must be some sort of dolly or truck. I saw a lot
of them where we first came out of the elevator, but I didn’t recognize
them.”
“And we didn’t know how big the room is, either, so we didn’t look for
means of transportation,” added Zip.
“No wheels,” said Joe, peering at the apparatus, “and doesn’t need them.
Magnetic, probably, with this iron floor. Man,” he said with exaggerated
disgust, “we could have floated in comfort the whole length of the
place.”
“We’re here now,” said Zip, matter-of-factly. “What happens next? We’ll
see if our friends are still with us.”
The men waited for some sign of guidance, but there was only silence. No
lights were activated over an elevator. Minutes dragged on. “Try the
doors,” said Zip at last, and walked to the nearest elevator. He pressed
buttons, but nothing happened. “Go on, try the other ones,” he called
out with a wave of his hand. Some of the men went to the other elevators
and pressed buttons. Others went to the standard doors adjacent to the
elevators, but they did not open.
“Well, I guess we have to go back,” said Joe. No one laughed.
“This one’s open,” called one of St. George’s men. They all turned and
saw an open door--the tenth in a row of identical, unmarked doors along
the wall. The man didn’t go through it but waited for Zip. The leader of
the Starmen went through the portal onto a metal deck. Stairs went
upward. He began to climb, with the others following after.
Three flights up he came to another door, which opened as he set foot on
the landing. He went through it into a room outfitted as a small hangar.
Five spaceships of alien design were clamped to the floor. At the far
end of the hangar was an airlock.
Walking gingerly, Zip stepped out a little farther into the hangar. The
airlock was enormous and perfectly clear, revealing thousands of stars.
Though it had been only a few days since he had seen a starscape, now it
almost seemed as if he were perceiving the heavens for the first time. A
feeling of awe coursed through him.
“We’re almost free,” he whispered.
12: First Impact
“ALIEN SPACECRAFT!” murmured Joe, slowly. “Magnificent!”
He and Mark had followed Zip into the hangar. George St. George and his
men came after them. They huddled close together and remained at the
door while the Starmen strode across the floor of the hangar toward the
spacecraft.
The five ships were sleek craft with a highly swept delta wing design.
The hulls were a startlingly reflective deep forest green color. The
craft looked identical to each other, each about 75 feet long with a
wingspan of about 45 feet. The windshields were black and opaque. They
lay horizontally on the floor of the hangar, all pointed toward the
airlock.
“Beautiful! Just gorgeous!” exclaimed Mark. As he approached the alien
craft he noted that the hull was not merely colored, but patterned. “Oh
my! Look at this!”
Joe and Zip were right behind Mark and came over to see what the big
Starman was showing them. The hulls were not only beautifully colored,
but showed evidence of leaf patterns. Subtle gradations in color gave
the impression that the ships were almost camouflaged--that they could
land in a deep forest and become almost invisible.
“This is a work of art, a work of genius!” exclaimed Joe.
“How do you get in?” asked Zip, looking for a door. He was running his
hands over the surface. There was no sign of a doorway, no seal or join
anywhere he could see or feel. He could see his reflection in the side
of the spacecraft as if he were looking into a still pool in a forest.
“So close, yet so far,” said Mark. “Here are ships, there is an airlock,
but we’re not any closer to escaping than we were before.”
“This’ll take some time,” said Joe, with a grimace. “It’s probably
voice-activated, like the computer screens below.” The company had
passed large computer screens regularly on their trek through the power
plant. “All we need to do is learn the language of an alien race we
don’t know, have never met, and whose language we can’t read. Then we
can break free of here.”
“Let’s get busy,” said Zip. “I like a challenge. We were led here by our
hosts. There has to be a way.”
Zip went back to George St. George and his men. “We’ll be working on
getting into one of the spacecraft and learning how to use it. You can
help by exploring this place and finding out what’s here. George, would
you please take an inventory of what we’ve got in the way of food and
drink and make a plan for making it last as long as you can. We’ll also
need spacesuits. We can probably fly without them if we have to, but
it’s a bad risk.”
“Okay, Zip. We’ll do our part,” responded George. His men scattered
throughout the hangar. There was a lot to investigate. It was only about
200 yards long and 50 yards wide, but was lined with cabinets. There
were shelves and racks with equipment of various kinds, some
recognizable and some decidedly not. More than a dozen doors opened into
the hangar. Zip went back to the spacecraft the Starmen had chosen for
their escape vehicle.
Joe and Mark were at the closest work station, where there were tools of
curious manufacture.
“What can you guess about the alien race that built this place?” asked
Joe as he ran his hands across a set of tools, picking one up and
putting it back down. “What do we know about them?”
“They’re humanoid, definitely,” replied Mark as he gazed at a rack of
instruments. “We’ve already agreed on that. I assume that the two
figures I saw last night are from the people who constructed this
amazing facility. Can’t guess why they’re not out in force here, unless
there are only a few of them aboard. Can’t guess why they don’t show
themselves. Don’t know how old this asteroid is or what it is for. But
they’re definitely humanoid. Even if I hadn’t seen them, we could tell
that by the shape of the tools and everything else we’ve seen.”
“And the food they gave us is not too different from what we’re used to.
And think about this: they put fresh fruit in those food packages. They
must have a hydroponic orchard somewhere in this asteroid. There must be
a huge portion of this complex that no human has ever seen--and maybe
can’t get into! This place is big enough to house an entire city. Maybe
there are _thousands_ of them here! George said that he only explored a
tiny part of the inhabitable region when he was here. Everything we’ve
seen tells me that they’re a lot like us.”
“That might tell us something about the nature of the universe, Joe. I
like to wonder about things like that.”
“And look, these spacecraft have wings. They’re not just for travel in
the void; they’re made for flight on a planet with an atmosphere.”
Zip came over the joined the conversation. “If they helped us get from
the warehouse area to this hangar, why aren’t they helping us get into
the spaceships?”
“Maybe there’re only two of them--the two I saw last night,” suggested
Mark. “Maybe they’re caretakers or something like that, and not
spacemen. Maybe they don’t know much more than we do how to get into
these beauties.”
“Well, whatever the reason, I guess we’re on our own, at least for the
time being.”
“Looks like some sort of laser here,” said Joe, picking up an object
that resembled a flashlight. It had two dials on it with signs of
calibration, and a button that was probably intended to activate it. “If
it _is_ a laser, and if these dials move the power from low to high, who
knows which end is which?”
“Take it into the power plant and aim it at the floor. An instrument
that small can’t have too much power and won’t hurt a half mile of solid
iron. See what happens,” suggested Mark.
Joe shrugged. “Okay.” He went over to the door through which they had
come a half hour before. He was back in a few minutes.
“It’s a laser, all right. This dial here changes the intensity of the
beam from low to high, and this one--well, watch. There’s a barrel of
powder over here. Talcum or something.” He reached in, took a handful of
the dust, and dropped it back into the barrel. A cloud of dust rose up.
He activated the laser through it. A bright blue beam appeared. He
turned a dial and the beam became a brilliant green.
“Lasers of different frequencies, all in one tool!” Mark exclaimed.
“Yeah, and it’s got red too!”
“Lots of possibilities with this,” said Zip. “I’ll bet it can be used to
open the spacecraft. The doors can’t be only voice-activated, or they
couldn’t open the door in a vacuum. What else is there? Heat, magnetism,
light? They used heat, body heat, on the panel back in the room where we
were kept prisoner. Heat won’t work in deep space. Let’s try light.
We’ve got the tool here.”
The Starmen went back over to the spacecraft. Joe set the laser for blue
light and ran the beam over the surface of the ship. For several minutes
he tried various colors and intensities. When he set the laser for
yellow light, there was a change in the surface of the ship.
“Ah!” said all three Starmen at once. The outline of a door appeared,
with markings in several places. Joe experimented a little more, placing
different intensities on the markings. In a moment he was rewarded. The
door recessed a few inches into the ship, and slid aside with quiet
efficiency. Joe immediately stepped through the portal.
The furnishings of the alien spacecraft were similar to what the Starmen
were familiar with, but the control panel was more challenging. Some
controls were obvious, since they were necessary for any spacecraft;
others were completely unfamiliar.
After about an hour of looking around, Joe sighed, “Gonna need more
time, Zip.”
“I know. We’ll just have to dedicate ourselves to it until we feel
confident enough to take the ship into space.”
“I’m making some progress here,” announced Mark. He was at a side panel
near the navigation station. As he worked the keyboard, various schemata
appeared in quick sequence. “I can’t read anything, but it’s obvious
that these are engines. I can’t recognize everything that’s coming up,
but most of it I can. See, here is a circuit diagram, and this part here
can only be a reaction chamber. I think this ship might use cold fusion
for power, but I can’t know for sure until I can read this stuff, or see
it in action.”
“You figure it out, Mark, and I’ll fly it,” said Joe confidently.
“Well, this stuff is you boys’ specialty,” said Zip. “I’ve got to think
ahead to the next problem. Assuming we can get this rig to fly, and
assuming we can open the airlock, we’ve still got to escape the pirates.
I doubt this ship is one of the invisible ones, and they’ll have us
spotted and speared in less then three minutes if we just fly out of
here, saying, ‘Thanks for the hospitality, sorry we have to leave so
soon.’”
“You can figure it out, Zip! We’ll get this grand machine ready!” Joe
was enjoying the challenge. It was hard to keep him down.
* * * * *
After eight hours of work on the spacecraft and with dinner behind them,
Joe said to Mark, “Let’s go back into the power plant and see if we
can’t find some way to sabotage the system so that the pirates can’t
find us when we take off. You can bring up some files on those huge
screens. Maybe we can even find some way to close down their whole
operation.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Mark, picking up a glass of water. He took a
sip and swished his mouth with it, then swallowed. “Best we can do
without toothbrushes, I guess.”
“If it were that easy,” said Zip, “our hosts would probably have shut
down the pirates long before this. After all, it’s their plant and they
know it better than anyone.”
“You’ve got to be right, Zip, but I don’t like sitting around. We’ve
been in this room all day and I’m ready for a break. I really do like
that huge plant. Man! Imagine a room ten miles long!”
The three Starmen descended the metal stairs and exited into the
enormous plant. A few yards away was one of the large computer
terminals. Mark went over to it and activated it.
“I can recognize a few things, now that I’ve been through so many of the
files upstairs,” he informed his partners. “This, I think, is the
lighting system.” He pressed a button. There was a loud “chunk” sound
and the plant lit up brightly.
“Ow!” said the three Starmen and covered their eyes. They were not
prepared for the sudden brightness. When they could tolerate the light,
they looked above them. Without a word, Mark lay down on his back and
just stared upward. Rank after rank of lights went up on the iron
framework for nearly a mile. A ceiling the color of charcoal was barely
visible, with what looked like rectangular viewports imbedded in it.
Joe and Zip remained standing and looked to their left. The lights
blazed for about half a mile. Beyond that point was darkness.
“It will take a lifetime to learn everything there is to know about this
place,” said Mark dreamily.
“I think we’ll be back someday,” replied Zip. “What else can you do,
Mark?”
Mark got up and turned the lights off. It took nearly a minute for their
eyes to adjust to the dimness. While Mark looked through file after
file, Joe and Zip wandered through some of the iron latticework. They
climbed spiral staircases for a level or two before descending again,
and examined the connections of tubes, pipes, and circuits.
“I’ve got something!” called out Mark. The others ran to him. He pointed
at the screen. “See, this is the main power generator. I can tell
because of the coils over here and the way the circuits are connected.
There are about eight of these; they must be spaced in a row a little
over a mile apart. They can operate singly or in combination. But look!
They don’t just power the life-support systems--in fact, I haven’t found
that part at all yet. But these are thrust systems! Do you know what
that means? _This asteroid is a spacecraft! It’s made to travel!_”
“Can’t be!” said Joe, flabbergasted
“It is. Look.” Mark flipped past a few more files, pointing out the
connections and the diagrams of chambers, coils, and energy field
generators. “I’m just barely getting a glance at this stuff, of course,
and I don’t understand it all, but I have no doubt about what I’ve seen
so far.”
“Why don’t you look for that life-support file and see if you can turn
off the pirates’ energy or something?” Joe suggested.
“No, Joe,” said Zip. “As I said before, if it were a good idea, our
hosts would probably have done it already. I think that whatever they’re
not doing, we shouldn’t try to do. Remember, even St. George didn’t want
to fiddle with something he didn’t understand.”
“George is a real nice guy, Zip,” said Joe, “but I still think he’s
breathed a little too much vacuum for his own good. You have to
experiment in life, sometimes.”
“I want to learn more about this power system! This is amazing!”
rhapsodized Mark. “If I’m right, this button here will...” He pressed
it. Almost at once a stream of paper began to feed out of a slot to the
right of the terminal and fell down, sheet by sheet, into a gathering
tray. Mark picked up the first sheet.
“It’s printing out the diagrams of the thrust system. just like that.
You’re right, Joe--this place is _great_!”
* * * * *
On the northeast edge of the massive area on the surface of Mars called
the Mare Hadriacum, stood a complex of domes and cylinders. Made of
metal and glass, it stood on an open plain about 35 degrees south of the
equator and 85 degrees east of the central meridian. The complex was one
of five atmosphere-generating plants on Mars, and the only one in the
southern hemisphere. In a small crater nearby was the settlement of New
Emmaus, with a population of about 12,500.
The long process of terraforming Mars had begun when a meteor shower
struck the fourth planet in 2009, significantly raising the temperature
of the atmosphere and altering the weather systems. With this jump start
serendipitously provided by meteorites, Earth had hastened the process
of making Mars livable by scattering the surface with spores and seeds,
introducing desert--hardy animals, and establishing the five
atmosphere-generating plants. Thanks to Earth’s efforts, the planet’s
temperature had continued to rise. Eventually water had emerged from
below ground and from the ice caps around the poles, and the air was
gradually thickening.
Terraformation had been taking place for almost 150 years, and it would
be at least another two centuries before it would be possible to live
anywhere on Mars without a spacesuit. The atmosphere-generating plants
were critical to the process. The plants themselves were automated, with
all systems operated and monitored by robots, and the major centers of
population on Mars were located in craters not far from each plant. The
complexes were on the open surface of the planet rather than in craters,
but the air they created flowed first into the nearest depressions in
the surface, and it was here that most settlements were located.
The plant located in the southern hemisphere was the most remote, but
had been filling the Mare Hadriacum, locally known as the Red Sea, for
decades. This great depression was 2,500 miles in diameter. When much of
the southern ice cap had melted, it filled the Red Sea with water up to
about three-fourths capacity, making the region a delightful place for
quiet living.
In the early morning of August 15, 2151, the cloudless sky was a
brilliant violet, and the sun was rising like a bowl of molten gold.
Marshal and Averette North, a retired couple, had climbed to the top of
the crater wall to enjoy the sunrise. Six miles away was the atmosphere
plant, gleaming in the newly-risen sun.
They were the only ones to see what happened next, but it happened so
quickly that there was almost nothing to see. In the thin atmosphere,
there was only a slight vapor trail and a short-lived but powerful
whine; then with a dull, gut-churning thud a ball of black and orange
flame slammed obliquely into the desert floor within a quarter of a mile
of the atmosphere plant. An enormous wave of pinkish-ochre sand rose up
in front of the impact site like a great wall. The shock wave quickly
blew the wall of sand upward and outward, so that it sparkled like
luminous rain until the sand particles became too scattered to be seen.
The shock wave struck the atmosphere plant and shoved it aside as if a
giant, invisible hand were violently clearing a table of unwanted
crockery. The crater wall where the Norths were standing rocked and
heaved as if in an earthquake. The shock wave passed them, blowing their
hair and rippling their clothing as if it were a pleasant breeze that
died away as quickly as it had come.
The elderly couple stood frozen in shock and watched the cloud of dust
gradually fill the entire eastern sky. After several minutes, the dust
was thin enough to reveal a horseshoe-shaped crater almost a mile
across. On the southwestern edge of the crater, where it trailed off
into the desert without a sharp boundary, was the place where the
atmosphere plant had been. Now the plant was broken into many thousands
of pieces and the wreckage was scattered for three or four miles in a
wide fan across the sand.
13: The Brink of Disaster
THE ALIEN SPACECRAFT was beautifully designed and well equipped. The
Starmen had spent more than two days exploring it fully and tracking its
electronics systems. It was planned for a crew of twenty. The galley was
not stocked, but Zip assigned some of St. George’s men to store their
food in it. The storage area inside the ship included spacesuits for the
entire crew. The suits were shaped slightly differently from what the
Earthmen were used to. They squeezed a little in the chest and were
somewhat baggy between abdomen and knee, especially for the shorter men,
but they could be used.
Joe and Mark were working to the point of exhaustion, trying to figure
out the controls in the cockpit. Mark had to trace innumerable leads
from the panel through the walls of the craft back to th
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