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.
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.
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.