Chapter 4

“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