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?