SPACE COMMAND and Starlight Enterprise were filled with intense
activity. The previous day had been a roller-coaster ride of messages
from Mars and the Asteroid Belt. First came the dismal news of the
destruction of the Martian atmosphere-generating plants, one after the
other. Then just before the tidings that the plant near Eagle City had
been demolished, the message from the missing Starmen had come into
Starlight Enterprise. The euphoria with which that word had been
received was quickly dampened by the ultimatum Lurton Zimbardo had
issued.
In words similar to those Troy Putnam had used weeks earlier, Zimbardo
demanded control of Earth’s wealth and resources, with specific demands
for access to Earth’s coded defense mechanisms, authority over major
ports of travel, and power over the major decision-making processes and
information systems. He closed his threat with the chilling announcement
that he had already directed a sheathed asteroid more than forty miles
long into a collision course with Earth. When his demands had been met
and verified, he would then turn the asteroid aside.
Immediately after receiving the message, the President called a meeting
in one of his maximum-security offices on Earth. Joining him at the
table were some of his senior advisors as well as Richard Starlight, his
chief assistant John Rwakatare, and other representatives of SE. Robert
Nolan with his chief assistant Beowulf Denn and other representatives of
Nolan Mining Enterprise filled out the gathering.
“Although he has demanded control of Earth’s systems of communication,
exchange, and security, I believe, ladies and gentlemen, that Zimbardo’s
real object is not clear.” The President was drawing conclusions after a
brief introduction of the facts. “It is impossible for one man simply to
become dictator of the entire planet, no matter who he is or what
engines of destruction he can call upon. I suspect that his aim is other
than he has announced, and I am determined not to provide the access
codes to our most sensitive systems.”
There was a slight rustle of movement around the table. Whatever course
of action was to be decided at this meeting, calling Zimbardo’s bluff
had not been considered by many to be a viable option. The President
continued.
“His ruination of the atmosphere plants on Mars proves that he is able
to direct asteroids to targets with high accuracy, and that we are
unable to detect them. Although the loss of the plants is a severe blow,
it is not crippling. They can be rebuilt in a few years. At worst, the
process of terraformation will be delayed for that long. Replacement
will cost about ten billion solars--obviously a huge amount of money,
but an amount that Mars can afford. The plants were over a century old
however, and in the long run replacing the plants will be more effective
and probably achieve the goal of terraformation faster than if we had
continued to use the plants that were destroyed. Frankly, there were
plans already in the works for modernizing the plants.
“No, the real damage has been psychological: the people of Earth and
Mars are terrified. This, undoubtedly, was Zimbardo’s major goal in
destroying the plants, and he has achieved it completely and thoroughly.
His demands to us are clear, but it is difficult for us to perceive what
he would achieve, even if we capitulated--which we do not intend to do.”
Robert Nolan could not contain himself any further, and lurched backward
as if he had been struck. “_You don’t intend to cooperate with him?_” he
almost screeched. “But he’ll destroy the entire planet if we don’t!
There is no way we can detect an asteroid he’s made invisible to radar!”
“Dr. Nolan,” responded the President, “we believe that we have a method
which will allow us to locate the asteroid that Zimbardo has directed
toward Earth. We have a very good chance of locating it and destroying
it.”
“A _chance_? Mr. President, you’re gambling with the very existence of
life on Earth! If an asteroid forty miles long strikes Earth, it will
not only cause the extinction of every life form on the planet, there is
every likelihood that it will crack the Earth’s crust! There will be no
escape! _No escape!!_ Don’t you see that we _have_ to cooperate with
Zimbardo? It will be easier to meet his challenge once he has turned
away the asteroid!”
The President responded in gentle tones. “You have not yet heard our
plan, Bob. Believe me, I can sympathize with your quandary, but I am
simply not going to deal with any evil force as if it had a right to
negotiate. It doesn’t. This has been the principle behind the decisions
we have made in order to meet the threat of the pirates from the first
day.”
“_Principle?_” Nolan was almost shouting now. “For your _principle_
you’re willing to risk the destruction of all life on Earth? _That’s the
evil we’re facing here!_”
“Bob--please listen to what Dr. Hoshino has to tell us. There is a plan.
Dr. Hoshino?”
Robert Nolan leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and cradled
his head in his hands. He was trembling. Richard Starlight looked over
at his friend and colleague and felt very badly for him. He knew that
Robert was under a tremendous strain. Richard agreed that the fate of
the Earth was at stake and would probably be decided at this meeting. He
was tremendously anxious himself, but he was eager to hear what Dr.
Hoshino had to say.
Dr. Stephen Hoshino was a brilliant astrophysicist whom the President
had commanded to work on a plan to counteract Zimbardo’s chief
weapon--the radar bender. He was a slight man of Japanese ancestry who,
in spite of his compactness, exuded power. Even his smallest movements
were made with precision. Although he was only in his middle thirties,
from his late teens he had been granted virtual carte blanche in his
research. Even at that young age, his genius had become known throughout
the inhabited Solar System. His voice was calm and mellifluous.
“Thank you, Mr. President. My team and I have been working around the
clock for eight days to develop a system for detecting an object which
is invisible to radar. We have succeeded. The theory was not difficult
to develop, but the method provided somewhat of a challenge. We have now
designed a technique for locating a body as small as, very roughly,
two-thirds the size of the average spacecraft, by detecting its
gravitational field.”
As he spoke, many of those listening to him felt the level of their
anxiety diminishing slightly. Robert Nolan lifted his head. Though his
expression was drawn, he was paying attention.
“We must manufacture millions of tiny probes and release these into
space in a systematic fashion over many millions of cubic miles. Their
design is quite simple. The laboratories and manufacturing centers of
organizations like Starlight Enterprise, Nolan Mining Enterprise, and
other companies can create these probes in vast quantities very quickly,
using robotic techniques. Each probe will have gravity instrumentation.
Using the microwaves naturally occurring in space, they will be
connected by a vast neural network and thus act as a single instrument,
with all data being fed back to various information centers.
“With the data from these probes we should be able to detect any massive
objects in places where they shouldn’t be. Certainly a large asteroid
cannot be hidden. The very size of the asteroid with which Zimbardo
threatens our planet will work in our favor, since detecting such a
large object can be achieved easier and sooner than if he sent, for
example, a number of small asteroids such as those that struck Mars.”
“Where will the probes be deployed, Dr. Hoshino?” asked Richard. “Our
time is short, very short indeed, if we have to manufacture, launch, and
deploy the probes in time to locate and then destroy the asteroid. Even
if we produce millions of probes, as you have said, we have millions of
cubic miles of space to search through. In the time available, even
trillions of the little probes can’t help much. Theoretically, the
asteroid can be _anywhere_. There are asteroids inside the orbit of
Mercury and outside the orbit of Jupiter. But I suspect that you already
have an idea where we are to search.”
The President answered. “When Zimbardo sent his first message to Mars,
evidence of his tampering with the Martian communication system was
discovered. This allowed us to trace how his tampering was done and
therefore where the signal came from--at least in a general direction.
After he sent his second message, the one to Earth yesterday evening,
the signal was traced again. We have learned that his base is moving
toward Earth and we have an idea of the speed his base is moving and its
direction. The information the Starmen provided confirms what we had
learned through our investigations.
“Of course, our figures are somewhat imprecise, and we still have a lot
of searching to do, but we have an excellent chance of locating him. It
is highly logical that the asteroid he harnessed is from a place in the
Belt close to his own asteroid. From what the Starmen reported, he just
didn’t have time to locate an asteroid as large as he claims to have
launched toward Earth from any place too distant from his own base. The
probes will therefore be cast in a net in the space between Earth and
the area of the Asteroid Belt in which the pirates’ asteroid was found.”
Richard Starlight, Robert Nolan, and others had a number of technical
questions for Dr. Hoshino regarding the manufacture and deployment of
the probes and the time schedule necessary to achieve their goal. At the
end of the discussion it was agreed that the two companies, with others,
would begin to manufacture the probes according to Stephen Hoshino’s
design. Launch was planned for five days later, with deployment six to
seven days after that.
* * * * *
“O344 coming up on the screen, Zip,” announced Mark.
“Not a moment too soon!” shouted Joe. “Food at last!”
It had been a week since the fourteen men aboard the alien spaceship had
left the pirates’ asteroid. They had been traveling under power for four
days. Although they had been very sparing in their consumption of the
food, they had run out two days earlier. A few ounces of water per
person remained in the containers; it had been carefully measured and
rationed to last the entire journey to O344. Everyone was thirsty but no
one was in danger of becoming dehydrated. All, however, suffered from
the pangs of hunger. Mark had a headache that blurred his vision and
made his responses slow.
“If it’s on the screen, we ought to touch down in a few minutes,” said
Zip. He was moving slowly and often sat down with his eyes closed. Of
the three Starmen, Joe seemed to be the least affected by the two days’
lack of food. The miners were lying down on their bunks. Other than Joe,
only George St. George had exhibited much energy in the previous two
days, coming forward to the flight deck every few hours to chat with the
Starmen.
Zip asked George to prepare his men for touchdown. Deceleration had been
gradual, so there was no need for the men to strap into the acceleration
couches. However, they would need to be in spacesuits in order to leave
the ship and enter the SE facility.
An asteroid about ten miles across loomed up on the screen. Joe circled
it slowly.
“There it is,” he said as a landing pad came into view. A small dome
next to the pad was barely visible, since the landscape that had been
artificially shaped was on the dark side of the asteroid, away from the
sun. The site on O344 was one of dozens of such places marked on the
navigational maps. They were unmanned stations stocked with supplies and
maintained for explorers, scientists, and others in the employ of
Starlight Enterprise. They contained large quantities of food, water,
and other basic necessities, and provided rustic living facilities.
It didn’t take Joe long to land the ship on the surface of the small
asteroid. It settled down gently just a few yards from the dome.
“I’ll need someone to go into the supply cache and get some bolts, Zip.
This ship doesn’t have any to keep it fixed to the asteroid--or if it
does, I haven’t found the controls for them. I’ll have to stay aboard
until the ship is secure.”
“Okay, Joe,” Zip responded. “Great flying. You pilot this ship as if you
were trained in it.”
“That’s my job,” said Joe. “Don’t take too long, though. I’m hungry!”
The men went through the ship’s airlock, made the brief walk across the
surface of the asteroid, and entered the dome. The dome contained a
small airlock leading to a ladder that descended about 15 feet into the
asteroid. Zip asked two of St. George’s men to locate bolts and go back
up to clamp their ship to the surface. Within minutes the alien ship was
fastened down tightly and all fourteen men were inside the supply
station.
“Food! Toothbrushes! Showers! Clean clothes!” shouted various voices as
the men scattered to look over the spartan facility.
“Food!” shouted Joe, and headed for the pantry where George St. George
was already standing.
“Relax, Starman!” said St. George, placing his hand on Joe’s chest. “You
three men have worked without rest to get us here. Just sit down. Let us
show our gratitude by fixing up the best meal this larder can make
possible.”
The three Starmen were only too ready to comply. They allowed their
tired bodies to sink slowly into the rest sofas, the minimal gravity
nestling them gently into the concave surface. The miners who were not
assisting in the preparation of the meal lay down on bunks in the
sleeping quarters.
“I don’t know if I need sleep or food more,” said Mark. He had been at
the navigation and communications stations almost without respite for
all of his waking hours--and he had slept little. Zip had relieved Joe
at the helm some of the time, but the trip had not been an easy one.
They had made the journey as quickly as they could in an unfamiliar
ship, having to keep watch at all times against a surprise attack from
any pirate ships. Their communications with SE had been limited only to
those most urgent, to minimize their exposure to any possible enemies.
SE had made an immediate and joyful response to the Starmen’s initial
communication. That had been followed within an hour by a report to
inform them of Lurton Zimbardo’s ultimatum about a large asteroid on a
collision course with Earth. The latter message had draped the men in a
somber mood. SE had also assured them that a rescue mission was under
way from Ceres, and several ships, including their own _Star Ranger_,
were due in nineteen hours. The Starmen and the miners planned to put
that time to good use by resting.
Under St. George’s direction, three of the miners put together a feast
of canned goods. St. George made a blend of canned meat, potatoes, and
vegetable soups, and warmed it to create a hot stew that was more than
passable. Dried biscuits, rehydrated and quick-baked, were added to the
feast. A huge pot of strong, brewed coffee soon added to the savory
smells coming from the kitchen.
“It’s ready!” called out Sabbath George. He and the others brought huge
serving bowls to a large table that was situated in the middle of the
room, adjacent to the kitchen. Places had been previously set.
Tired as the men were, it took them only seconds to assemble at the
table. George said a few words of thanks and passed the first bowl to
his right where Joe was seated. Joe grasped the large serving spoon. The
bowl was steaming with the mixture and wisps rose lazily from the ladle
as it made several trips from serving bowl to Joe’s plate. After he had
dished out at least two pounds of stew, he shoved the bowl on to the man
at his right and took two biscuits from the central supply.
“Only two biscuits, Joe?” prodded Mark. “Has hunger made you too weak to
eat?”
“I’ll show you whether I’m too weak to eat. Watch this!” He shoveled a
heaping spoonful of stew into his mouth. His chin lifted a notch, his
eyes closed, and a satisfied moan escaped his closed lips. He slowly
lowered the spoon to the table and lifted both hands as if he were about
to embrace someone.
“Taste good?” asked Zip, reaching for the aromatic bowl as it came his
way.
Joe chewed and swallowed. “Someone back at the Academy told me once that
there was no such thing as a dumb question. He was wrong. That was one.”
Joe turned to George. “George, this is delicious! I’ve never tasted
anything better!”
George glanced over at the food cans that had been in storage for
several years. “A hungry man will enjoy anything. A _very_ hungry man
will consider even canned goods to be ambrosia.” But by that time the
serving bowl had gotten around to George, and he stopped to fill his own
plate.