THE RUNAWAY ASTEROID
--------------------


THE STARMAN SERIES
by Michael D. Cooper






Currently 5 Starman books have been released. They are:

ASSAULT ON MARS
THE RUNAWAY ASTEROID
JOURNEY TO THE TENTH PLANET
DESCENT INTO EUROPA
THE LOST RACE OF MARS

To find out more about these books and/or order copies,
check out the Starman website at:

http://www.StarmanSeries.com/






David Foster Number Two

THE RUNAWAY ASTEROID

by Michael D. Cooper

Artwork by Nick Baumann
Endpaper photography by Tom Narwid

A David Foster Starman Adventure
Copyright © 2000
David Baumann, Jon Cooper, and Mike Dodd
all rights reserved
ABCDE "A Baumann-Cooper-Dodd Enterprise"



The Starman Team dedicates this book to 

Fred Woodworth

a rare and gifted individual who practices
generosity in a world of acquisitiveness,
courage in a world of indifference, 
honesty in a world of opportunism, and
personal responsibility in a world of buck-passing;
an artist and craftsman
few in this era know how to appreciate;
who has done as much as any and more than most to 
advance the cause of series books;
and whose genius has abundantly proven that the 
books deplored by librarians of a previous age
are treasures that shaped several generations and 
made their readers better people.
To Fred Woodworth of Tucson, Arizona,
the series book world owes a debt
that can never be repaid.



CONTENTS


																				PAGE
INTRODUCTION by Paul Greene	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	  9
A Note on the Name "Zip Foster"	.	.	.	.	.	.		 12

CHAPTER																		
1.	Controlled Fury	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 15
2.	Sent to Ceres		.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 24
3.	Montezuma's Castle.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 37
4.	Sabbath George	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 51
5.	The Destruction of Z25	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 62
6.	Battles Lines		.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 72
7.	Prisoners on the Pirates' Asteroid	.	.	.	.	.	 84
8.	The Starmen Strike!		.	.	.	.	.	.	 93
9.	A Vision in the Night	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 102
10.	Both Sides Move		.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 111
11.	An Asteroid is Missing	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 120
12.	First Impact	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 127
13.	The Brink of Disaster	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 138
14.	The Shield of St. George	.	.	.	.	.	.	 148
15.	A Microwave Net	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 156
16.	A Dark Spirit	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 167
17.	The Enemy Revealed	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 177
18.	Collision Course! .	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 187
19.	Change of Guard	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 198
20.	Desperation	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 208
21.	The One That Got Away	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	 218



INTRODUCTION

The Starman Team dedicated its first book, Assault On 
Mars, to Joseph Greene, the late author of the Dig Allen 
series which was the inspiration for the Starman series. A 
complimentary copy was sent to his son Paul, who was 
moved by the tribute. We then asked Paul to write an in-
troduction to The Runaway Asteroid. The following is his 
response—surely one of the most unusual introductions in 
any book anywhere, and one we are privileged to share 
with our readers.



Dear Dad,

A most remarkable invention is weaving the world together in 
a way we never anticipated while you were on Earth, and it 
netted your writing. Fans of your books for juveniles, The 
Digby Allen series, were able to connect to each other, share 
their enthusiasm for your novels, and were inspired to continue 
the voyage. Led by Jonathan Cooper, the intrepid mastermind 
of the creative crew, they made a commitment to write their 
own vision of the future. Thoughtfully, they credit you as hav-
ing shoulders broad enough for them to stand on and see the 
centuries beyond. The invention that has made this possible is 
called the internet. There seems no need to explain what it is 
here, but part of its magic is that it can permit people to con-
nect to each other independently of time and space.

The themes of Dig Allen from the 1960's have worked like the 
internet in that they functioned independently of time and 
space, only much more slowly. You presented your ideas in 
books as ideas are posted on the internet. The authors of Star-
man were drawn to the themes in your books and then each 
other in cyberspace, which acts as both the bookshelf and café 
for today's ideas and authors. The creators of Starman saw 
value in your stories and tried to get the publisher to renew the 
series. Sadly, your old publisher ignored them and blocked the 
revival, as though they were so much space junk. 

No one owns a theme. But the creators of Starman have shown 
that they share some of the beliefs that you express in your 
subjects. Their young men of the stars prove that they too are 
brave, adventurous and willing to sacrifice for freedom and 
justice.  With a loyalty toward each other that would create 
envy in every generation, they test themselves against cunning 
scoundrels. As they conquer villains, they, and we along with 
them, learn whether they measure up. Will they prove them-
selves worthy as young people have done for all time? Young 
readers can have a chance to preview something about their 
own lives and the world they will live in. And just as you be-
lieved, somehow the human race survives. If the world of 
Starman is an accurate guess on the future, then the good guys, 
the ones in the white space suits, will continue to prevail and 
produce more young people to keep the dream alive. I hope 
that some of the next generation of courageous young people 
will read this series. 

Your fans don't know that you started writing seriously rela-
tively early in life, in the 1920's and '30's, first as a teen for 
your personal pleasure and then on your school newspaper at 
New Utrecht High School in Brooklyn, New York. Did having 
to learn the English language after speaking Russian until the 
age of seven help you become a better writer? Were your po-
ems and letters to Mom valuable both to her and to your pro-
fessional development? Did the comic books you authored 
during the Golden Age of comics give you a better sense of 
story-telling and dialogue or did it degrade your love of lan-
guage? I know that writing television scripts and other creative 
projects supported the family during the difficult years of the 
1950's, but how did it affect your later work with Digby Al-
len? So many of your themes are repeated and reworked in 
several of your creations right through to the late 1980's. Who 
would guess that you once wrote a paper on the use of the ra-
ven in several of Shakespeare's plays? Or that you wrote biol-
ogy text to accompany a new medium, slides made from strips 
of 35-mm film? Would admirers realize that you were most 
interested in world events, but read the sports section of the 
New York Times first, everyday? I'm certain your fans 
wouldn't have read the American Elsewhen Almanac, a compi-
lation of bits of Americana and commentary that you published 
in the 1980's. 

I want to thank the authors of Starman for giving me the op-
portunity to write the introduction to their second novel. If 
there is a way to communicate to you across the veil between 
our dimensional world and the one in which you now reside, 
then it must be through the pages of a book. After the love of 
family, I don't believe anything was more precious to you than 
books, so maybe this letter will be able to cross the divide. Just 
as I proofread the drafts of Digby Allen before you sent them 
to the publisher, your granddaughter and grandson proofread 
this. Perhaps that will act like a mystical booster rocket to get 
these pages to you. 

And to future space pioneers, may the solar winds be at your 
back.

Love,
Paul

October 20, 2000



A Note from the Starman Team
on the name Zip Foster

Several readers of Assault On Mars, the first book in this se-
ries, commented on the similarity of the name of the Starman 
leader, Zip Foster, to the name of the character Rip Foster in 
the book by Harold Goodwin under the pseudonym Blake 
Savage. This book, Rip Foster Rides the Gray Planet, was 
published by Whitman in 1952 and reissued six years later as 
Assignment in Space With Rip Foster.

The similarity between Zip Foster and Rip Foster is a coinci-
dence, but only partially. We chose the "Foster" surname as a 
tribute to Rip Foster, but Zip is a nickname we came up with-
out deliberately trying to mimic Rip. Although we have not 
hesitated to break some new ground in developing the Starman 
series, we are also gratefully aware that we are working in a 
genre with a venerable past. The use of the "Foster" surname is 
only one of several ways we have chosen to show our appre-
ciation to the writers of the classic books.

Interestingly, well into the production of Assault On Mars, we 
learned that there is a very minor character named Zip Foster 
in a book called The Boy Ranchers in the Desert, published in 
1924! The Boy Ranchers series appeared in nine volumes be-
tween 1921 and 1930, but we only have the one volume and 
don't know if Zip Foster is a major character in the other 
books in the series.




THE RUNAWAY ASTEROID


1: Controlled Fury




	"THEY'RE getting closer! They're almost on us! We 
won't make it into the Belt on time!" The navigator of 
the Silver Spear was on the verge of panic. His frenzied 
hands moved over the controls.
	"Keep going! Keep up full speed! Make sure that we 
get there ahead of them!" Lurton Zimbardo's voice was 
even and controlled, but it was obvious that he was 
barely containing his volatile fury. His commands were 
not to be questioned. His nostrils flared, the muscles 
around his lips were taut, he kept his fists clenched and 
pounded a persistent rhythm on his ship's control panel. 
His breath sounded as if he could inhale and exhale the 
room's entire atmosphere. It was only his iron self-
control that kept his crew from giving in to their fears.
	Behind them just moments away Starman David Fos-
ter's ship, the Star Ranger, was closing the gap. The 
pursuit had been going on for two days, since the Silver 
Spear had blasted off from Eagle City on Mars, escaping 
while the rest of the pirates were being rounded up by 
Earth's forces. David Foster, accompanied by Starmen 
Mark Seaton and Joe Taylor and their companion Steve 
Cliff, had followed less than fifteen minutes later. The 
brief lead that Lurton Zimbardo's ship had was enough 
to keep the Silver Spear out of the clutches of their 
pursuers, but not by much. The crew of the Spear was 
dark-eyed from sleeplessness and mounting anxiety.
	The Belt loomed up. The first few chunks of rock 
were visible now to the unaided eyes of those on the 
deck of the Silver Spear. In seconds, they were among 
them. The navigator screamed as the ship whipped by a 
pitted rock a quarter of a mile long, missing it by a few 
yards.
	"Fool!" shouted Zimbardo. "Turn on the automatic 
pilot!" The navigator's eyes were the size of saucers. 
Immobile with terror, he didn't respond to Zimbardo's 
command. The former second-in-command of the pirates 
pushed him out of the chair and took over, activating the 
switch that cut in the automatic pilot. Lurton Zimbardo 
was not physically imposing, but more than made up for 
his slight build with an immensely strong will and a de-
cisive nature, easily merciless whenever it served him.
He knew they were going too fast even for the auto-
matic pilot to keep the ship safe once they got into the 
thick sweep of the asteroids. He also knew that that was 
their best, their only, hope of escaping from the Starmen 
on their trail. Powered by adrenaline, his senses were 
functioning at their peak. With amazing alacrity and in-
tensity, Zimbardo aided the automatic pilot and threaded 
the Silver Spear through the weaving asteroids. It almost 
seemed as if he were in a trance.
	Soon a gigantic asteroid loomed ahead, roughly 
shaped like a potato, forty-five miles long and twenty-
five wide. It was nearly invisible both to the eye and to 
the instruments, but Zimbardo knew where it was. He 
barked out a command. The Silver Spear slowed 
quickly. A huge airlock door opened in the side of the 
asteroid. Zimbardo piloted the ship into the airlock, 
through the stone tunnel into the interior of the asteroid, 
and touched down.
	The thin, wiry man raced for the control room as fast 
as he could run, pushing men out of the way and heeding 
no calls. Once inside, he quickly pressed a series of but-
tons and entered a numeric code. Once it was entered 
and confirmed, he made a fist and slammed it hard on a 
large red button. Immediately all the radar screens were 
covered with snow.
	Zimbardo relaxed for the first time in days. He ex-
haled quietly and actually smiled. He took a deep breath 
and smiled more broadly.
	"Sir?" asked one of the technicians who had watched 
the procedure.
	"I detonated a hydrogen bomb on a neighboring aster-
oid a couple of hundred miles from here. Part of a 
backup plan for keeping this place hidden. It will clog 
all radar screens for a few minutes. By the time they 
clear, no one will be able to find us or this asteroid."
Zimbardo's relaxed state did not last long. He swelled 
up with energy again, strode to another console, and 
tapped in a series of commands.
	"Come here, Gene," he ordered as his fingers flew 
over the keyboard. The man he addressed quickly came 
to stand by the pirate leader. He was a well-built young 
man in his late twenties with short curly brown hair, 
finely chiseled features, and an obvious desire to please. 
He was well trained in the technology of space control 
systems. After he had proven his competence in the 
field, Troy Putnam had made him his chief control offi-
cer.
	Zimbardo continued. "Follow these coordinates at this 
speed. Don't alter the course for any reason without my 
permission."
	Gene looked at the planning board where the numbers 
were posted in a pleasant green light. "That course will 
take us out of the Belt, Mr. Zimbardo. Is that what you 
want?"
	"That's what I want. It's time to move away from 
here. If anything out of the ordinary happens, let me 
know immediately. Find me by using my personal code 
on the communicator—no general announcement. Keep 
watch especially for any spacecraft—especially any 
spacecraft!"
	"Yes sir!" Gene took his place and the others returned 
to their duties.
	Once he saw that the crew members were well settled, 
he picked up the intercom and ordered his leaders to 
assemble in a meeting room in five minutes. From the 
few dozen pirates left, he had hand-selected five compe-
tent leaders to be his lieutenants: Gebbeth, Crass, 
Lather, Bolcher, and Slant.
	In less than that time, Lurton Zimbardo was sitting at 
a table with the five other men. All but Zimbardo looked 
haggard. They were demoralized and upset. Victory on 
Mars and beyond had been within their grasp, but it had 
all been blundered away. A band of several hundred 
men who had planned and worked for several years had 
been reduced to a few dozen. Their dreams of power and 
prominence, shaped and fueled by their captain Troy 
Putnam, had been utterly destroyed. Putnam was in cus-
tody on Mars, along with the rest of the pirates.
	"Troy Putnam was a fool," Zimbardo announced in a 
quiet voice edged with steel. "His plan might have 
worked—might have worked, if I had had more part in 
planning—but he was no more than a conceited ignora-
mus. The Starmen walked in on him and took him com-
pletely by surprise! I can just imagine how his face must 
have looked as he realized his plan was over and he was 
led off to jail. A fool! We are better off without him!"
	"Better off without him?" asked one man in a dull 
voice. "What do you mean, Lurton? Better off for 
what?"
	"Don't be a fool yourself, Crass!" Zimbardo sneered. 
"You don't think we're finished here? We will still get 
what we want and it won't be very difficult, either. And 
we don't need Putnam and we don't need a few hundred 
men, either. You can be thankful you're here instead of 
locked a stone room in Eagle City eating square, plain, 
healthy meals off of a metal tray. The collapse of Put-
nam's big dream is the best thing that could have hap-
pened for us."
	A muscular, unsmiling man on Zimbardo's right 
swung his gaze to the speaker. "It sounds as if you have 
a plan, Mr. Zimbardo." The man was in his early thir-
ties, and looked like a street fighter. With carefully 
combed dark hair, he was almost strikingly handsome, 
but his eyes were black and humorless.
	Zimbardo turned toward the man. "Yes, I have a plan. 
You, Gebbeth, will be my chief assistant, and the pilot 
of the Tartarus, my personal ship. I can depend on you. 
Space Command's celebration on Mars will be ex-
tremely short-lived."
	"You were always the strong one, Lurton," said an-
other. "I kind of always figured you for the real leader, 
and I always wished it was you instead of Putnam."
	"Now you got your wish, Bolcher. I've taken charge. 
I'm moving this asteroid out of its orbit into a place out-
side the Belt. Here's my plan."
	Almost an hour later, the men left the meeting room, 
smiling, joking, and stepping lightly. Their fatigue was 
gone, their discouragement forgotten.
	Lurton Zimbardo was the last to leave. Now that 
things were moving in the direction he wanted, he al-
lowed his fatigue to take over. Encouraged by the sup-
port of his assistants, he felt he could rest at last. He 
walked down the halls, past various doors and entered 
an elevator. The display screen normally offered only 
the few floors in use by the pirates. Zimbardo, alone in 
the elevator, punched in a special code which only he 
knew. When the proper sequence was displayed, he 
pressed "Enter." The elevator began to move. The new 
leader of the pirates relaxed even further. The others 
would not know where he was, and he would be undis-
turbed.
	He could barely sense the elevator's motion. He 
didn't know how far into the asteroid's interior he was 
moving, but he knew what he would find when he 
reached his destination. The door opened. A short corri-
dor led to a double door. Embossed on the doors was a 
huge, rich, golden symbol—a lush planet with about 
80% blue oceans, a few continents, and thick cloud 
cover. Three small moons were arranged at the upper 
left, set at the points of an equilateral triangle. Zimbardo 
had been intrigued by the design when he'd first found 
it, but now he hastened through the doors without notic-
ing it. He was eager to get into the Chamber beyond.
	As Lurton stepped into the room he gasped. His dozen 
prior visits still had not taken the surprise out of the 
room. Each time he stepped into the Chamber he seemed 
to be stepping foot into another world; he knew he was 
still inside the asteroid but his senses told him other-
wise.
	Lurton seemed to be standing on a high mountain 
overlooking a vast plain on some forgotten planet. A 
pale blue sky was overhead, and a light wind was blow-
ing. Down below on the plain he saw a river snake its 
way through a green forest; if he listened he could hear 
the water. In the distance Lurton saw a fantastic alien 
metropolis of beautiful glass skyscrapers; he could just 
barely make out ships hovering over it and small vehi-
cles driving around in the distance. Clouds sailed gently 
overhead; it was near dusk.
	He knew that the room was actually no more than 
about a hundred feet square, but the display was seam-
less. He could not even make out where the door to the 
room had been; for all the world he seemed to be stand-
ing on another planet on a late, peaceful afternoon. He 
had never been able to find out how the room worked or 
where the wind came from, but he suspected the display 
was generated by some sort of holographic projectors far 
in advance of anything he had ever seen or heard of.
	Lurton suspected that the scene was from the home 
planet of the asteroid's builders; perhaps the distant city 
was their capital. He had spent hours watching the room 
and never tired of it, for the scene always changed. After 
a certain number of hours dusk fell and the city lights 
came on. He had watched different kinds of weather and 
seen glorious sunsets and sunrises. Occasionally he 
caught a glimpse of a huge alien starship. He had seen 
many strange things in the Chamber and he was sure that 
he had not seen them all.
	Lurton liked coming here when he was upset or an-
noyed; the room had a peaceful air that rested and 
soothed him. He was certainly in need of that now. He 
hadn't slept in over fifty hours and could easily have 
lain down in what seemed like soft turf and fallen deeply 
asleep, but the ethereal beauty of the Chamber's vision 
was restful and he didn't want to close his eyes for an 
instant while he was inside.
	He thought back to the day when he'd found the 
room. The asteroid had been drifting and uninhabited for 
who knows how many thousands of years when a soli-
tary asteroid miner had found it and discovered that it 
was hollow. He had told a few others about his find and 
eventually Troy Putnam had learned of it. Zimbardo 
grudgingly admitted to himself that Troy was a genius—
a weak, impractical genius, but a genius nonetheless. He 
had followed the miner's directions and found the 
nearly-invisible asteroid. He had even learned how to 
use many of the asteroid's capabilities. He had made it 
the base for his foolish attempt to take over Mars.
	Shortly after the pirates had taken residence, Troy 
Putnam had instructed Lurton to explore the asteroid 
beyond the few floors the pirates used, and find out eve-
rything he could about it. One day Zimbardo had found 
the Chamber. There was very little that could arouse any 
kind of sensitivity in the wiry, energetic man, but the 
Chamber could do so. Maybe it was because no one else 
knew about it and no one could see him wrapped in the 
depths of the emotions the room could inspire. The 
Chamber was not the only secret of the asteroid which 
Lurton had retained for himself, but it was certainly the 
best one.
	At last the peace and enchantment of the Chamber 
overcame Lurton's resistance to slumber. He sat down 
and rested with his back against a tree, gazing over the 
landscape at the alien city. The massive trunk was 
slightly rough but not uncomfortable. Huge roots spread 
out in all directions before disappearing into the grassy 
soil. Branches laden with broad leaves made a shadow-
filled canopy over the pirate leader.
	As he felt sleep coming on, he fumed one more time 
at the Starmen and the stupidity of Troy Putnam. He 
mulled over his plan and smiled a little. The Starmen 
would live to regret what they had done to him. His eyes 
closed and his breathing became deep and regular. At 
last the pirates' new leader slept. Above him a few birds 
chirped peacefully. A short distance away a brook mur-
mured in lyric gentleness. The sky over the city gradu-
ally turned from flawless blue through lavender into vio-
let, and silver stars emerged.




2: Sent to Ceres




THE SPLENDOR of the Asteroid Belt stretched away in 
all directions, and the piercing light of uncountable stars 
filled the background. The view was possible only in 
airless space. Starman David Foster was staring out of 
the window of his ship, the Star Ranger, but he was not 
really seeing anything. His brow was furrowed with an 
uneasy doubt. 
	"Still no sign of 'em, Zip," announced Joe Taylor. 
The lanky six-footer had eased naturally into the posi-
tion of pilot/navigator under David's direction. "I've 
scanned as far as the instruments can reach, and there's 
just nothing out there in any direction—except the Earth 
ships, of course. They should be here in about three 
hours."
	"No debris?"
	"No, Zip. I've found where the explosion took place 
and examined that more carefully than any other area. It 
was a violent blow. I think about a third of an asteroid 
was turned into dust when it went off, and that's power-
ful enough to vaporize any ship that was carrying a 
weapon with that kind of potential."
	Zip shook his head as if warding off a buzzing insect. 
"All right. Nothing we can do about it." He turned to the 
third Starman on the crew. "Mark," he called out. 
"Would you send a report to Mars please and ask Com-
mander De Koven what he wants us to do?"
	"Okay, Zip."
	While they were waiting for the connection to be 
made and response to come through after the delay of 
several minutes, Joe was waiting. "You seem uneasy, 
Zip. What's there to worry about?"
	"I just like completion. That ship we were chasing 
carried the last of the pirates from Mars, and I'd just feel 
a lot better if there were some debris, some evidence 
that they hadn't escaped."
	"Zip," came a deep voice from the lounge next to the 
flight deck, "there's a lot of uncertainties in life, 'spe-
cially life in space. I been around a lot and believe me, 
the exception is when you really know everything that 
happened—and that's never."
	"Sure, Steve," answered Zip, raising his voice. "I 
know. But I don't like it."
	"You'll probably be uneasy most of your life then. 
C'm on, be like me. Lie down, relax, take a nap. You've 
been rushing for days now, especially the last couple 
when we were shooting through the void at top speed. 
Give it up now, boy. You can't do anything more."
	Zip didn't answer, but he walked into the lounge. 
Steve Cliff was completely relaxed, with his feet 
propped on a table. His huge frame was sunk into the 
sofa deeper than Zip would have thought possible. Zip 
picked up a book that Mark had been reading, and lay 
down. In less than a minute, he was asleep with the open 
book face down on his chest.

	"Up you go, Zip, it's dinnertime." Steve's normally 
boisterous voice was gentle and almost subdued. Zip 
took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. He sat 
up, put the book aside and ran his hands through his red 
hair.
	"What's going on?"
	"You've been out almost four hours. Figured I'd make 
myself useful so I whipped up some food. Here you go." 
Steve set a tray down on the nearby table. Mashed pota-
toes, salad heavy on diced tomatoes just the way Zip 
liked it, and a few pieces of very thinly sliced roast beef 
in a luscious brown gravy.
	"Looks delicious, Steve; thanks."
	"Coffee's coming up in a minute, steaming hot with 
half a teaspoon of sugar." Zip reflected for a moment 
about how little time he had known Steve, but how well 
he fit in to the group of three Starmen. Steve already 
knew how he liked his coffee—hot and fresh—and what 
his favorite meal was. While he was enjoying the aroma 
of the meal before tucking into it, Steve brought in the 
coffee.
	Zip lifted a mouthful of roast beef and potatoes. 
"What's going on?" he repeated.
	"Mark got ahold of the big guys in Eagle City, told 
'em what was going on out here. They told us to wait 
until the Earth forces showed up and then get on back to 
Mars. We've been under way almost an hour." Zip nod-
ded.
	"And Mark says there's more and wants to talk to you 
whenever you're ready."
	"Send him in."
	Mark came in as Zip put a fork into a chunk of tomato 
and lifted it out of the bowl, dripping with dressing. 
"This really is delicious, Steve!" he called out as Steve 
disappeared onto the flight deck, leaving the two Star-
men to themselves.
	"Steve told you we're on our way back to Mars, I'm 
sure," said Mark by way of preamble. Zip nodded. 
"Commander De Koven also said that we are to report 
directly to Mars Base. We drop Steve off at Eagle City 
and go right on to the Base without getting out of the 
ship." Mars Base was Starlight Enterprise's headquar-
ters on Mars. It was a huge plant, covering several thou-
sand acres of Martian desert, near the north pole and far 
from any other settlement. 
	"What's up?" Zip's gray eyes peered over the rim of 
the coffee mug as he took a swallow.
	"There's no danger of further attack on Mars—
everything seems to be secure in Eagle City—but we're 
to be given an assignment with a 'significant time fac-
tor,' as the Commander put it. Too sensitive to put out 
over the radio even with scramblers and tight beam."
	"They must've learned something from the pirates 
they captured."
	Joe peeked around the corner. "No—I think they're 
going to give us a medal and a month off for liberating 
Eagle City."

	Two days later, the Star Ranger was cruising at a 
good clip a few miles above the Martian desert. Eagle 
City was behind, and the course was set almost due 
north. Mark was remembering the parting with Steve.
	"Don't worry about a thing, boys—I'll make sure the 
little folk get back to the Moon safely enough." Steve 
was referring to Jack and Jill, the diminutive citizens of 
Titan who had played the critical role in rescuing Eagle 
City from the pirates.
	Mark felt very badly that he hadn't been able to see 
the Titanians. Four days before, they had left Mars 
without notice to begin the frantic chase of the escaping 
pirates, and now they were urgently called to Mars Base 
with no time permitted to see their friends. Personal re-
lationships were important to Mark. As the Star Ranger 
returned to Mars from the Asteroid Belt, he had made a 
recorded greeting and farewell for Jack and Jill and en-
trusted it to Steve. Mark was beginning to realize that 
for him, the life of a Starman would be marked with fre-
quent partings and sorrows.
	The always-ebullient Joe did not seem to be affected. 
"Don't worry about it, we'll see them again. They'll un-
derstand. Right now we're off on another adventure!"
As the Star Ranger approached the pole, Mark shifted 
his mood and hoped that Joe would be right.
	"Oooh, yes! Look at that!" exulted Joe, pointing out 
of the front of the ship. A light came over the horizon 
like a flame too bright to be looked at comfortably. The 
sun was reflecting off the glass-sheathed buildings of 
Mars Base, Starlight Enterprise's primary headquarters 
on the fourth planet.
	Rapidly the Star Ranger closed the distance. Mark ra-
dioed for landing clearance.
	"Gorgeous!" said Joe. From the pilot's seat he could 
make out the airport, the hangar, the huge laboratory and 
research buildings and the manufacturing centers. Men, 
robots, and machines scurried around the plant. Security 
was very high; ever since the pirate attack SE had re-
doubled its efforts to keep out unauthorized personnel. 
This was the area from which Starlight Enterprise con-
ducted its Martian operations.
	Immediately after landing, the Starmen were brought 
into the office of Oritz Konig. Konig was in charge of 
security throughout the entire SE system.
	"Mr. Konig!" exclaimed Zip as he led the little parade 
into the central portion of the complex. "I sure didn't 
expect to see you here!"
	"Welcome to the Base, Starmen!" Konig stood up and 
came around his desk to greet each of them with a warm, 
two-handed handshake. He was a genial man, large but 
by no means overweight, very strong, firm, and of al-
most regal bearing. He gave the impression of being al-
ways available and affable, but never to be taken for 
granted. He was clean-shaven and wore a rather long 
crew cut.
	"Sit down," he continued. "What I have to say is of 
vital importance and I'm afraid we don't have time to do 
more than get you briefed on the situation. I can't even 
take the time to commend you for the outstanding work 
you did against the pirates. Richard is busting with pride 
over his newest Starmen! And I can't say I blame him—
you did marvelous work! You three are wanted on Earth 
for some special recognition, but unfortunately we have 
a brief mission for you first."
"Richard" was Richard Starlight, the head of Starlight 
Enterprise who had entrusted Mark and Joe with their 
Martian assignment.
	"Thank you, Mr. Konig," responded Zip simply.
"The pirates only had a few men placed here at the 
Base, but they were enough to shut down operations for 
the few days they needed to paralyze Eagle City. 
Frankly, it was a surprise for us and Richard wanted me 
to take personal charge of security on Mars until it was 
quite clear that the threat was past. Actually, I flew in 
with the invasion fleet. My most important assignment 
here is to set up a secret base for Starlight Enterprise, 
which will be a backup and defense unit prepared for 
any events such as the one we've just experienced."
	"A secret base?"
	"Yes. I'll be looking for the best site, recruiting the 
right people to man it, and drawing up plans for con-
struction and the tasks it will have to perform. I don't 
need to tell you that the project is highly confidential. 
I'm only telling you about it because you're Starmen, 
and it will be a resource you'll need to become familiar 
with. Of course, there will be much more information 
coming your way later."
	Oritz Konig spoke cleanly and clearly, but gave the 
impression that his thoughts were racing faster than he 
could speak. He had had to discipline himself to speak 
so that others could follow him. There were few wasted 
words when he had to get a message across, but he was 
able to converse in a way that assured his listeners that 
he valued them as people and needed their cooperation. 
Konig manifested an extremely rare combination of be-
ing a "people person" as well as having a supremely 
disciplined and task-oriented mind.
	"While you were in the Asteroid Belt, we interrogated 
the pirates. Not all of them cooperated, but enough did 
that we learned that they have a base in the Belt. It's no 
ordinary base. Most of the pirates don't know its origin 
but they can describe what it looks like.
	"It's a fairly good-sized chunk of hard stone, mostly 
iron. It's hollow, and the base is inside. The access port 
is concealed. More to the point, it cannot be detected by 
radar.
	"Some of the toughest of the pirates sneered that we'd 
never find it—that it couldn't be seen even if you were 
right on top of it."
	Joe jumped in. "But sir, this technology is not new. 
There have been craft since the late twentieth century 
that were invisible to radar. There are other ways to find 
them—gravitational influences, to name one."
	"Of course, Starman Taylor. This asteroid, however, 
appears to be the work of some advanced race, other 
than Earth. The pirates didn't create it—they took it 
over. And its sheathing system is highly effective, highly 
effective indeed. The pirates could be lying, of course, 
but once the word got out to them that we knew about 
the asteroid, most of them seemed to swell with a kind 
of arrogant pride, even welcoming the fact that we had 
the information. They were confident that we couldn't 
do anything about it."
	"And that explains, I'm sure, why we couldn't find 
them in spite of an exceedingly thorough search of the 
area," concluded David Foster, feeling somewhat vindi-
cated.
	"So are we to go find the asteroid?" put forth Joe, 
leaning forward in his chair.
	"No, Mr. Taylor. We want you to find the man who 
discovered it."
	Joe leaned back into his chair, a puzzled look on his 
face. Oritz Konig continued.
	"The asteroid was discovered almost twenty years ago 
by an asteroid miner named George St. George. He's a 
loner, like so many of the asteroid miners. He makes a 
good living, but has no fixed address. He's constantly on 
the move and spends most of his time away from settle-
ments in the Belt. He'll disappear for months, maybe a 
year or two—then show up on Ceres or in Eagle City 
with what he has found in the Belt and turn it into cash 
and supplies. Then he's gone again.
	"Apparently he discovered this remarkable asteroid 
the pirates took over. He's a trusting, almost naďve, de-
cent man. He spoke unguardedly about his find at one 
time and Troy Putnam learned about it. Putnam had St. 
George take him to the asteroid and paid him a good 
price for the knowledge. St. George showed Putnam 
where it was, and then disappeared into the Belt. Putnam 
went on to build his empire of pirates."
	"And now you want us to find St. George so he can 
show us where the asteroid is," inferred Zip.
	"It's not that simple, Starman. We've also learned that 
the pirates who escaped are the most dangerous of the 
lot. Their leader is a very bad number named Lurton 
Zimbardo. The pirates were willing to obey Troy Put-
nam because he encouraged them. They liked him. He 
was a charismatic leader who gave them visions of 
grandeur and made them think that they could pull off 
the impossible. But they are afraid of Zimbardo—for 
good reason, from what we hear. He is a merciless, cal-
culating spaceman, patiently willing to play second-in-
command to Putnam while waiting for his chance to take 
over. That chance has now come.
	"The pirates are greatly reduced in number now, but 
those who are left are extremely dangerous. They will be 
fierce, uncompromising enemies. St. George is the only 
person outside of the pirates who knows where the as-
teroid is, how to find it, and has some knowledge of how 
it works. Where Putnam was willing to let St. George go 
about his business, Zimbardo will certainly determine to 
eliminate him. Zimbardo will try hard to find St. George. 
You must find him first. Protect him, and learn from him 
where the asteroid is."
	"What do we know about him? How can he be 
found?" asked Zip.
	"He hasn't been heard from for over a year, and he 
could be anywhere in the Belt. But he has a friend 
named Montezuma Vly. If anyone knows where St. 
George is, Vly will know. And we know where Vly is."
	"Why not just ask Vly where St. George is?" asked 
Mark.
	"That's where your assignment begins," answered 
Konig. "Like St. George, Montezuma Vly is an asteroid 
miner. Unlike St. George, he doesn't wander far from 
his home. But Vly has a deep distrust of any authority 
figures. He lives on an asteroid called Montezuma's 
Castle. He claimed it over thirty years ago and has com-
plete right to privacy. Starlight Enterprise can't get in to 
see him. No government officials have any right to enter 
his domain. He is completely independent. We're hop-
ing that where officialdom can't act, you young Starmen 
can. When he knows that George St. George is at risk, 
I'm sure he'll help you."
	"Where do we find Montezuma Vly?" asked Joe, who 
was the navigator for the trio of Starmen.
	"Montezuma's Castle is not far from Ceres. You can 
get to Vly in less than a day from Yellow City." Yellow 
City was the major center on Ceres, the largest and most 
important asteroid in the system, with a population of 
around 100,000. It doubled as a spaceport, and was a 
stopping-over and refueling point on the long voyage 
between Earth and the outer planets.
	"Go to Ceres first and check in there. You'll need to 
change ships and clothes in Yellow City. Since the pi-
rates will be searching for St. George, you'll have to 
conduct your search quietly—using the Star Ranger and 
wearing Starman's red uniforms won't do on this as-
signment. The rest of the information you'll need will be 
provided for you in files which you can read as you 
travel. Now get going."

	Lurton Zimbardo called his five most trusted leaders 
to a meeting in one of the libraries on the pirates' aster-
oid. Each was dressed in the gray and black uniform that 
Troy Putnam had designed for the pirates for their failed 
mission to take over Mars. The meeting had been going 
on for several hours and had involved a lot of detailed 
organizational work. The men were tired and showing it. 
As usual, only Zimbardo showed no signs of fatigue.
	"Yes, gentlemen," said Zimbardo, "You know what to 
do now. We will need to get all of our men busy and you 
must drive them, drive them relentlessly! I don't want to 
take any longer on this work than we need to. We've 
been moving slowly out of the Asteroid Belt for almost 
three days."
	His laser pointer made a few small red circles on a 
chart in the library. "This is where we were, and this is 
where we're going to be." The chart was nearly a full 
wall of smooth quartz, illumined from the inside and 
showing the nearby configuration of asteroids.
The table was strewn with large books opened to star 
maps, note pads, a couple of small computers and calcu-
lating machines, and a huge number of crumpled balls of 
paper. One man reached for a pitcher of water that was 
on the table and slowly filled his glass. Zimbardo con-
tinued.
	"The manufacturing will begin tomorrow—that'll be 
for Stubb to oversee. Once the sheathing device has 
proven effective we can begin work on restoring and 
disguising our fleet. After that, Crass, you'll take care of 
the rest."
	One of the men looked up. "What about St. George? 
If anyone discovers him he could put a serious crimp in 
our plans."
	Zimbardo looked annoyed. "St. George will be dealt 
with, Mr. Slant. I have not forgotten him; you can leave 
that to me. He will never speak to the Starmen or anyone 
else."
	Another spoke. "Is it really necessary to silence him? 
It will take a large number of men to make a search—
men we could use on the urgent projects at hand. Since 
you've moved the asteroid from its original site, he can't 
find us now or show anyone else how to find us."
	"He can't find us, but he knows how this asteroid 
works—almost as well as I do. If the Starmen learn what 
he knows, it could be disastrous for us in the unlikely 
chance that they ever locate us. I don't like taking 
chances, and I don't like leaving any loose ends. St. 
George is a loose end we can't afford." 
	"Do you know where to find him? He doesn't have 
any fixed place he calls home."
	"Our men have quietly inquired for him on Ceres and 
learned that he has a good friend, another asteroid miner 
named Montezuma Vly. We know where Vly lives, and 
Vly will know where St. George is. Vly doesn't receive 
visitors, but his resistance won't keep a small fleet from 
landing. One way or another, Vly will tell us where to 
find George St. George—and soon."



3: Montezuma's Castle




A FEW DAYS later, Lurton Zimbardo decided to take a 
tour of the workshops and check on progress. Where 
Troy Putnam's organization had been large, easy-going, 
and confident, Zimbardo's was tight, highly-organized, 
and ruthless. Its high degree of efficiency was dependent 
almost exclusively on Zimbardo himself. Once Zim-
bardo had asserted his control over the organization, the 
asteroid and its crew had rapidly become an extension of 
his formidable personality.
	He took an elevator from his suite to the main floor of 
the organizational complex and stepped out into the hall-
way. He walked with a firm tread, and men stepped 
aside with a slight deferential bow. He passed through 
the great glass doors at the end of the passage into a 
huge foyer. Passing through, he entered a courtyard, 
strode across it, and came into the working area.
About sixty men were working at various stations. 
They were glad to see their new commander. It was 
amazing how rapidly the sense of defeat had been 
changed to one of expectancy and pride. The men felt 
that Zimbardo was a real leader. Every day or two an-
other ship docked and new workers came in to join the 
crew. Zimbardo had sent out a few trusted leaders to 
noted asteroid bases and mining operations in the prox-
imity of his asteroid, to recruit. He could use more men, 
especially skilled workers in electronics and mathemat-
ics, but he wasn't eager to build up a large force. He 
chose carefully. The workforce was being built up 
gradually, but with men he could trust. He had also in-
vited three smugglers he had known before to join the 
operation, with their men.
	"Stubb," called out Zimbardo.
	"Sir," responded the man so addressed, an eager man 
about thirty years old, with sandy blond hair and baby 
blue eyes. He hastened up to the pirate leader.
	"Give me a status report. The ships first."
	"The sheathing systems are easy to manufacture, 
thanks to the ample supplies from the warehouses. The 
men are able to put them together rapidly, even the un-
skilled workers, since they just need a master circuit to 
copy. I have forty men working on these, with the 
skilled electricians checking each plate. As you know, 
we completed work on ten ships six days ago, and they 
were tested and went out on their assignments. They 
have not returned yet. These plates we're working on 
now are going on the remaining ships, and we have al-
ready finished work on four of them. That leaves just 
three to go, including the ship that just joined the crew 
yesterday. We should be finished by tomorrow after-
noon."
	"Good. And the power units?"
	"These are far more complicated, sir, so I only have 
the most skilled workers assembling these. The same 
with the propulsion units. They won't be ready for at 
least a week, not even one of them. However, once we 
get the prototype finished, the rest should follow rap-
idly."
	"How long until you have all 85 completed?"
	"I should have a good number of the unskilled work-
ers ready for a new assignment once they have finished 
with the sheathing plates. Once the design has been 
checked by the experts, we can get them cracking on the 
power and propulsion units. Of course, each unit will 
have to be tested by the experts, so I would estimate that 
all 85 can be operational within ten days—unless we run 
into any problems."
	"Good work, Mr. Stubb. I will check on progress 
every day."
	"Very well, sir." The man went back to work and 
Zimbardo returned to the main complex. 

Ceres was the hub of the Asteroid Belt. Nearly 600 
miles across, it was the largest body in the ring of plane-
tary debris that swirled and turned in a large swath be-
tween the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. It was the place 
where professional miners first arrived from Earth be-
fore their companies farmed them out to the mining cen-
ters on various asteroids. The independent asteroid min-
ers came to Ceres once in a while for supplies, and the 
corporations picked up equipment imported daily from 
Mars. Several days' travel from the nearest sizable 
population center, Ceres was a buzz of activity.
	The Star Ranger approached the large asteroid after a 
fast but uneventful journey of six days.
	"Quite a cloud of starships!" remarked Joe as Yellow 
City came into view. A cloud of at least forty ships of an 
amazing variety of sizes, shapes, and vintages was mov-
ing over the port. Some were hovering, others were 
heading in toward the landing field and a few others 
were departing. None moved very fast since the space 
was as crowded as bees around a hive.
	Yellow City was a well planned settlement, in spite of 
having been developed jointly by several different min-
ing companies. Although the competition was fierce for 
the rich minerals of the Belt, cooperation was necessary 
to build the city, especially in the earliest years of set-
tlement. The result was beneficial to all, as Yellow City 
could easily supply the needs of miners of all kinds as 
well as serve the traffic to the Outer Planets that almost 
always came by way of Ceres. Advancements in propul-
sion systems were making it possible for some of the 
newer ships to bypass Yellow City on their way to Jupi-
ter and beyond, but the Belt was still a major stopping 
point.
	Zip spoke quietly to Mark. "Mark, please let them 
know that we would like to land."
	Mark opened the microphone. Joe had already plotted 
the final trajectory.
	"Starman Mark Seaton on the starship Star Ranger 
requesting permission to land."
	The response was immediate. "Yes sir, Starman! Ce-
res is proud to welcome you!" The operator went on to 
give directions for landing.
	"Why is he so deferential?" queried Mark after com-
munications had been completed.
	"We're famous!" responded Zip. "We've been aboard 
ship since the end of the attempted takeover on Mars 
and haven't kept up with the news, but we've become 
household names. I learned that from Oritz Konig just as 
we were leaving the Base. We're the men who liberated 
Mars! The people in the Belt are especially pleased 
since the pirates had planned to blockade them once 
they had a strong hold on Eagle City. Why, you couldn't 
find another place in the Solar System that'd be happier 
to see us than Yellow City!"
	The Star Ranger was given priority docking. Once its 
engines were shut down, a large crew ran to secure it 
and welcome the Starmen. As Zip, Mark, and Joe de-
scended the ladder, eager hands reached up to help them 
down the last two or three rungs. Through the bubbles 
on their suits, the mechanics and service personnel were 
all smiles.
	When Zip inquired about the offices of Starlight En-
terprise, the Starmen were ushered to a small moonbus 
and driven directly to the site. It was a small two-story 
building set in a row of offices, workshops, and garages 
not far from the landing field. All buildings on Ceres 
were made of the gray rock the asteroid provided. Build-
ing material was cheap and solid, but plain.
Although the city itself was covered with an atmos-
phere dome, the SE office was located close to the land-
ing field, not within the city proper. Entrance was 
through an airlock.
	Once through the airlock, the Starmen removed their 
helmets and placed them on the rack.
	"Whoopee! This is fun, being famous!" exclaimed 
Joe, his eyes alight. "I hope it lasts until we get back to 
the Earth-Moon system! I'd like to enjoy it!"
	"I hope so, too, for all our sakes. Your exploits have 
given all the Starmen a good name!" Joe whirled. 
	"Kathryn Mullaney!" cried Joe. Mark and Zip smiled 
widely.
	"What are you doing on Ceres, Kathryn?" asked Zip. 
	"I haven't seen you since your last visit to the Academy 
at the beginning of our senior year." Kathryn Mullaney 
had graduated from Starlight Academy a year before Zip 
and his partners; her first assignment as a Starman was 
in the Outer Planets. She was twenty years old, wore her 
strawberry blond hair short, and had a few freckles span-
gled across her nose below blue eyes which had a touch 
of green in them.
	"Finished my assignment on Saturn and I'm coming 
back home for a leave which I hope will be very long! 
Just staying here long enough for a quick once-over on 
my ship, refueling, and then I'm Earth-bound. In fact, 
I'm on my way out now."
	There was a little more pleasant conversation, then 
Kathryn said, "I've got to be going, and Sim is waiting 
for you upstairs. Good luck!"
	Zip, Mark, and Joe ascended the stairs and came to 
the landing. The stairway and corridors were very plain. 
There was no unnecessary ornamentation of any kind, 
and light was minimal. They came to the door of the 
operations officer for Starlight Enterprise on Ceres. It 
was marked "Sim Sala Bim." Joe knocked.
	"Come in," said a voice. The Starmen entered the 
door. The occupant was already coming toward the door 
to welcome his visitors. He was a tall, slender man of 
Indian extraction, with black thinning hair. "Welcome! 
So glad to see you! Welcome, please come in!" He ush-
ered them into the room.
	"Nice to see you again, Sim," greeted Zip. They sat 
down in a circle of chairs, Sim sitting near a table on 
which were placed all the makings necessary for tea. 
There were already two cups set out, which had been 
used recently. Sim took one for himself and set the other 
aside. "This was Kathryn's," he said as he produced 
three new cups for his visitors. "You probably passed 
her on your way in."
	The conversation continued as Sim poured the tea 
from a very large brown earthenware teapot. Before 
long, Zip brought up the subject of their visit.
	"I wish we had more time to visit, Sim, but our as-
signment is extremely urgent. We must find George St. 
George as fast as possible, and Oritz has told us that 
only a miner named Montezuma Vly can tell us where 
he is. We're on our way to Montezuma's Castle."
	"Ah, yes," said Sim Sala Bim, "Sabbath George. He is 
well known here, but we haven't seen him in almost a 
year, I think. Almost a year."
	"Sabbath George?" asked Mark.
	"George St. George is a devout man—genial, gener-
ous, liked and respected by everyone. Honest to a fault. 
He's called Sabbath George because of his beliefs. The 
nickname is intended to kid him a little bit, but is really 
meant as a term of respect and affection. But to find him 
in short order, you will indeed have to go through Mon-
tezuma Vly. Montezuma's Castle is not hard to find, but 
getting in will be difficult."
	"We are familiar with Mr. Vly's convictions and we 
wouldn't bother him if there were any other way to find 
St. George. Given the time constraints, we have no 
choice."
	Sim nodded. "Montezuma's Castle is easily recogniz-
able by its unusual shape. It is a true crescent, a sliver of 
stone with Vly's operation in its very center." Sim went 
on to provide coordinates and whatever other informa-
tion the Starmen would need to find it.
	Zip continued. "We also need another ship. Our as-
signment is to be carried out in secret. We will not be 
traveling as Starmen. No one must know who we are or 
where we're going."
	With Sim, they made plans to leave the Star Ranger 
on Ceres while the Starmen, dressed in ordinary clothes, 
quietly depart for Montezuma's Castle in another ship.
	"I'll let you have the Vigilant Warrior," said Sim. 
	"It's a local ship, designed for operating in the Asteroid 
Belt. We own it, but it hasn't been used in a while and 
probably no one will recognize it as an SE ship. It's the 
best I can do on short notice, but it should serve you 
well."
	"I'm sure it'll be fine, if you say so," answered Zip.
Sim Sala Bim got right to work, and the Vigilant War-
rior was ready for takeoff within two hours. The Star-
men lifted off from Yellow City. As Joe piloted the ship 
into the heart of the Belt, Zip looked back for a brief, 
wistful moment and saw the Star Ranger, his ship, on 
the field of Yellow City.

	"That's it," said Mark, as the navigation equipment 
locked onto the asteroid that was the home of the elusive 
Montezuma Vly. 
	"Hmmm. No wonder it's so hard to find," observed 
Zip, looking over Mark's shoulder for a moment. Not far 
from major travelways but so unobtrusive you'd never 
notice it."
	"It just hovers almost in the shadow of that large, 
worthless chunk here. Should be able to see it out the 
window before too long."
	Zip was busy threading the Vigilant Warrior through 
the asteroids for the next few minutes. He kept the ship 
at a moderate pace and passed easily around the slowly 
turning asteroids. They were all moving at about the 
same speed and maneuvering was not difficult.
	"Should be coming up on it about now," offered 
Mark.
	"There it is," said Zip almost immediately. The Vigi-
lant Warrior had eased its way around an oblong world-
let—the "large, worthless chunk" that Mark had just 
mentioned—bringing a crescent-shaped, stony asteroid 
about ten miles long into view. It looked almost like a 
fat banana with the ends tapering into sharp points.
	"Montezuma's Castle," breathed Zip. "Kind of looks 
like a moon for that large asteroid."
	"I think it is," answered Mark. "It rotates around the 
larger chunk and the two make almost a helix pattern in 
their journey through the Belt. They were probably a 
single asteroid at one time. One powerful impact must 
have split them, but the pieces haven't drifted far apart."
	"Well, let's get down there. There's no mistaking the 
shape of the 'Castle.' Whatever odd shapes you can find 
in the Belt, that's got to be unique." The Starman 
brought the Vigilant Warrior slowly into the proximity 
of Montezuma Vly's refuge. "See if you can raise him, 
Mark."
	Mark Seaton flipped on the communicator.
	"Starman Mark Seaton on the starship Vigilant War-
rior calling Montezuma Vly on the Castle, requesting 
permission to land." His voice was smooth, intimate, 
and confident. There was no response. A minute later, 
Mark repeated the message. The metallic voice of an 
automatic response system came on.
	"This asteroid is private property and visitors are not 
welcome."
	"We understand that, sir," Mark replied, "and we 
would not request permission to land if it were not a 
matter of urgent business of personal concern." A hu-
man voice came on.
	"Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before! I don't 
want visitors! If I wanted a social calendar, I'd go live in 
a big population center like Ganymede. Keep going! 
Next services are 3,000 miles away."
	"Mr. Vly, this is Starman David Foster, Commander 
of the Starlight Enterprise ship Vigilant Warrior," Zip 
broke in. "We understand and respect your reluctance to 
receive visitors and will stay no longer than necessary. 
We are calling on you because your friend George St. 
George has information we need which is vital to the 
safety of all the settlements on Mars and even the Earth-
Moon system. We also believe it possible that he is in 
danger from violent men."
	"Well, that's a new one. George in danger? What 
about it?"
	"May we land, Mr. Vly? I don't want to take the 
slightest risk that our conversation can be overheard. We 
won't stay any longer than necessary."
	"You've found me. May as well come in and state 
your business." The communicator was shut off from 
Vly's end.
	Zip came up on the Castle. It didn't take long to find 
the landing site. There were two spacecraft in position in 
about the middle of the asteroid. One was a small ship 
suitable for local jaunts, and the other was a normal-
sized craft capable of interplanetary travel. The name 
Sentinel was painted on the side of the larger craft. Both 
were very old and in places a little battered, but were 
clearly cared for and well kept up. The Vigilant Warrior 
touched down about fifty yards from the closest of Vly's 
craft. Zip shut off the engines and pressed the security 
button. A slight shudder ran through the ship as bolts 
shot from the fins, securing the ship to the surface. The 
Starmen disembarked and descended the ladder.
	"Over there," pointed Joe. The entrance to the airlock 
was discernible across the tiny landing area. The Star-
men began walking toward it. The starfield swept away 
to right and left, with a couple of nearby asteroids visi-
ble to the eye. A great horn of stone rose up before 
them, sweeping several miles to a point above. Behind 
them a similar horn curved up in the opposite direction.
The ground was uneven, with contours sharply de-
fined. Jagged, broken rock comprised most of the ter-
rain, with a few smooth, ripples which rose about twenty 
or thirty feet from the plain. Shadows were utterly dark 
in the vacuum of space. The Starmen's boots gripped the 
hard ground of the asteroid. Without the asteroid shoes, 
the minimal gravity of "Montezuma's Castle" would 
have made walking a difficult task. The airlock was set 
into the side of a hill. The side had been artificially cut 
away in front of the door.
	As Zip, Mark, and Joe approached the airlock, the 
outer door opened. When they had passed through, it 
shut behind them. Joe kept watch on the instruments as 
air filled the compartment. When the atmosphere had 
become normal, he removed his helmet. Zip and Mark 
followed suit. They opened the second door and passed 
through. A dimly-lit stairway led down in front of them. 
About twenty-five steps brought them to the beginning 
of a short passageway. At the end was another door. It 
was solid.
	Zip approached the door and paused. He turned his 
head to the other two, lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. 
Mark and Joe nodded. Zip knocked. The door was 
opened almost immediately.
	A good-looking, clean-shaven man with dark hair 
looked them over once quickly, then stepped aside. 
	"Come in," he said, waving a hand while the other held 
the door. "I'm Montezuma Vly." He had powerful 
hands, obviously used to hard labor. His nails had grit 
under them. Strong as the hands were, clearly they were 
also the hands of an artist, capable of fine work. He 
shook hands with the Starmen as they entered.
	"Wow!" said Joe, the last to enter. Vly shut the door. 
The three Starmen gazed about them. A small room was 
packed with machinery—old fashioned-machinery used 
for rock cutting, polishing stones, and mounting speci-
mens. The heady smell of machine oil hung in the air, 
not heavy like an aircraft hangar but attractive and ener-
gizing, almost like a perfume.
	The machinery was made of cast iron, with wheels 
and gears, rods and chains visible inside the cases. Each 
machine was lovingly maintained. The newest machine 
must have been at least fifty years old, but all were in 
top quality condition.
	"They're made to be used," explained Vly. "You 
can't get better machines than these today. The new 
stuff doesn't last and can't be depended on."
Joe, the engine master of the trio, immediately 
thought of the precision instruments produced by Star-
light Enterprise. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. 
He knew that SE made quality machinery, but little of it 
was iron. He didn't want to make a fool of himself by 
talking about something of which he knew little. Instead 
he smiled and decided to take a closer look.
	He leaned over the closest apparatus. His mild skepti-
cism quickly turned to awe. "My goodness, Mr. Vly! 
This is incredible! These machines are beautiful!" Vly 
didn't smile, but his face softened a little.
	Mark and Zip were looking around the room. On two 
walls were hung various hand tools. Several shelves held 
cans of oil and paint, boxes of supplies, and dozens of 
samples of minerals and crystals. The other two walls 
were lined with books, half of them behind glass. 
Zip turned his head to the side to read the titles of 
some of the books. He saw The Complete Works of Wil-
liam Shakespeare; Kon Tiki by Thor Heyerdahl; 
Homer's Odyssey; and several advanced textbooks on 
mineralogy, metallurgy, engineering, and electronics. 
Zip's eyebrows lifted. He was impressed.
Mark was looking at the books on the other wall. Ba-
sic Watercolor, he read. The Stories of Edgar Allen Poe 
was next to The Life of Johann Sebastian Bach. Mark 
whistled. "Not what I expected, Mr. Vly," he said. "Not 
at all what I expected."
	"Uh huh," murmured Montezuma Vly. "Let's get 
down to business. Follow me." He squeezed past Zip in 
the crowded little workplace, passed through a narrow 
door on the other side of the room, and through a pas-
sageway. The Starmen followed.
	A small furry shape leaped through the air in front of 
Joe. "Ack!" exclaimed the lanky Starman, stumbling 
backward, knocking over a couple of small boxes as his 
arms flailed. Nuts and bolts scattered on the floor. Joe 
backed into another box and sat down hard on it.
	"What—?" exclaimed Vly, turning.
	"What was that?" cried Joe. "Something jumped 
across the corridor. I think it went into this recess here." 
He pointed to an opening between a few stacked boxes.
	"One of my koalangs," answered Montezuma. "I've 
got four of them here. And a few more in the living 
quarters. Good company. They can startle you, though, 
and they can make an awful mess. More than once I've 
threatened to make stew out of 'em and eat 'em for din-
ner." The Starmen looked at one another, wondering if 
he was joking. His next action showed that he was.
	"Come on, Howard," said Montezuma gently, bending 
over and calling into the dark place where the koalang 
had hidden. "They won't hurt you. I know you're not 
used to company, but no one's gonna hurt you. Come on 
out. That's it, come on." He reached in gently and drew 
a small creature out of the darkness. It had a small furry 
face with large, frightened eyes, and snuggled up against 
the miner. Its fur was caramel and white. He folded it 
into his chest and covered it gently with both hands. He 
crooned to it lovingly for a moment or two, then said, 
	"That's right. You're okay. Go play." Then he added 
with mock fierceness, "Just stay out of the paint!" He set 
it down and turned back to the door at the end of the 
corridor
	"In here," he directed, leading the way into the room 
beyond.



4: Sabbath George




THE ROOM was smaller than the Starmen had antici-
pated. Its small size was accentuated by being packed to 
the ceiling with a variety of items. Hand tools which had 
been used by rock hounds for centuries lay on tables and 
on shelves. Stacks of paper, most of which showed signs 
of being bound by hand, covered much of the remaining 
space. On one shelf was a large, clear sphere on an or-
nately shaped stand. The eyes of all three Starmen were 
drawn to it.
	"Have a seat," offered their host.
	There were three chairs. Montezuma sat in one placed 
before a desk and swiveled to face his visitors. Zip and 
Joe took the other chairs and Mark sat on a short stack 
of crates filled with rock samples. A thick book rested 
on a table in the center of the room. Mark glanced at the 
title, turning his head slightly to do so. The Flying Car-
pet, by Richard Halliburton. There was a bookmark 
about halfway through the book.
	The asteroid miner leaned forward. "What about 
George?" he asked.
	Zip filled him in. Montezuma Vly paid close atten-
tion. His eyes never wavered from Zip's face as he 
spoke. When Zip was finished, Vly nodded.
	"Mm hmm," he murmured. "This could be bad for 
George. I'll tell you where to find him. I expect that 
you'll be able to keep him out of the clutches of the 
space vultures. You've got an enemy to be reckoned 
with in this Zimbardo psychopath, but I believe you can 
handle him."
	"You seem to know a lot about our recent exploits, 
Mr. Vly," said Joe, conversationally.
	"I'm not the complete recluse people think, Mr. Tay-
lor. People have a lot of wrong ideas about me. I don't 
want to be listed in the Register of Peoples, and I don't 
want people butting into my business or telling me how 
to live, but I keep up with the news. If I hadn't recog-
nized you, you wouldn't have been allowed to land on 
my asteroid. You're not wearing Starman's red, you 
know."
	"We're grateful to you, Mr. Vly," nodded Zip.
	"May I ask—" began Mark, then hesitated.
	"Yes, you may ask. Go on."
	Mark turned his head toward the sphere. "The 
sphere…"
	"Oh yes. It's pure crystal, all right."
	The Starmen gasped. "Pure … crystal…?" stam-
mered Mark. "Why, there can't be a larger one in the 
Solar System! It's priceless!"
	"Next largest was in the Smithsonian Institution, a lit-
tle more than twelve inches in diameter. This one's six-
teen and three-quarters inches. Found it myself on Ada-
mant—that's the parent asteroid from which this sliver I 
live on was busted off a few millennia ago." Mark knew 
he was referring to what he had called a "worthless 
chunk" before they landed.
	Vly went on. "Shaped it myself in those old machines 
you saw coming in here. Had to redesign some of 'em to 
fit a crystal this size, but we did it."
	"It looks flawless!" breathed Joe.
	"Looks it, but isn't. Its flaws are its greatest treasure. 
Watch this; you haven't seen anything yet." Vly picked 
up a small cutting tool with a laser guide at the end. He 
turned off the lights and then pointed the laser at the 
crystal sphere. The beam struck the surface and then 
scattered throughout the interior of the globe, igniting 
sparks of spectacular glory. Mark could feel tears come 
into his eyes with the unearthly beauty the light created. 
	Many dozens of flakes, invisible to the naked eye, were 
revealed when the laser beam pierced the near-perfect 
sphere. They exploded in glorious colors—gold, orange, 
deep red, flaming yellow, silver; even a few brilliant 
green, deep blue, and violet sparks traced across the in-
ner world.
	The Starmen were speechless. They couldn't take 
their eyes off the resplendent glory of the sphere under 
the laser light. "Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Vly, gently. 
There was no need to answer.
	"Where do the colors come from?" asked Mark. "La-
ser light has only one wavelength, so it can't be refract-
ing in there."
	"The crystal's impurities are almost invisible to the 
unaided eye," answered Vly, "but the laser hits the im-
purities and causes secondary emissions of light of all 
sorts of color—the more impurities, the more colors. It 
lights up better than a fire opal.
	As he moved the laser beam slowly around the globe, 
the interior lights changed—first one, then another 
"flaw" taking the light and surging into radiance.
All too soon, he switched off the laser and turned the 
room lights back on. It was almost as if a spell had been 
broken.
	"C'mon," he said. "I'll show you just where George is 
on the chart." He moved back down the hall, the Star-
men following. When they were back in the room they 
had first entered, Vly reached up into a recess where 
there were several rolled sheets of paper. "Move aside," 
he said quietly, pushing a reluctant koalang over and 
pulling out a large roll. He unrolled it over a rock pol-
isher and gestured for the Starmen to take the corners. It 
was a map of a portion of the asteroid belt.
	"Here's where we are," said Vly, pointing to a spot on 
the map. "And here's where George is." His finger 
swept across the map to where a tiny dot had been 
placed. "It's a mining operation of moderate size called 
Z25. He runs it there with a fair-sized crew—maybe a 
dozen men." There were equations, sketches, and notes 
scribbled all over the sheet.
	"I'm sorry, Mr. Vly," said Joe, "but I don't follow 
you. I'm used to plotting coordinates and thinking in 
three dimensions."
	"See these figures?" asked Vly. "They're your coor-
dinates. It is a three-dimensional map, in a manner of 
speaking. If it weren't, I couldn't get around. I'll write 
down what you need. But you'll find George on that lit-
tle plunk of a rock. He's been there several months now 
and won't be hard to find, once I point it out to you. I 
just spoke to him a few hours ago and I'll get ahold of 
him again and tell him you'll be coming." He began to 
write some notes down for Joe.
	"Must take a lot of power to run your operation here, 
Mr. Vly," observed Joe while he waited for Montezuma 
to finish writing. "Don't you have to conserve energy?"
	"Haven't had to conserve energy since I developed a 
new process for drawing energy directly from the sun."
	"But out here the solar radiation is so weak. You can't 
get much energy from solar panels, no matter how effi-
cient—certainly not enough to run your machines with-
out some sort of supplement."
	"I don't use solar panels any more, Mr. Taylor. I mine 
energy from the sun directly with an entirely new proc-
ess. I can pull in and store about four gigawatts. Gives 
me all I need and plenty left over."
	"Four gigawatts?"
	"Four gigawatts. That's a four with nine zeroes after 
it."
	Joe 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, no-
body! Not even Starlight Enterprise! You could make a 
fortune if you sell your design!!"
	"Really?" said Mr. Vly, lifting his eyebrows slightly, 
handing Joe 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, …" Joe spluttered. Mark 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, Star-
men. 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 con-
tainer.
	"Take this," he said, handing it to Zip. "It's a re-
cording 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 discov-
ered until the computer age. Lily made it. She's an ex-
pert 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."
	"Thank you, sir. Best wishes to you."
	"You too. An occasional visit once in a while is wel-
come, especially when people value 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 scat-
tering 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 there 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 communi-
cations.
	"Vigilant Warrior calling Z25. We have arrived in 
your area and seek permission to land."
	"You made good time, friends," came a voice in-
stantly. "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 en-
cryption could be a tipoff to an enemy who might be 
listening in.
	As they made the final approach, the Starmen had a 
good view of Z25's horizon near the time of local sun-
set. The surface was dark because of the oblique illumi-
nation, but several boulders caught the sunlight and ap-
peared like 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 stood in informal array. 
A dome covered the buildings, and reflected the sun in a 
burst of brightness. Mark had a quick memory of dew-
drops 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 as-
teroid, 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 refresh-
ments. It's almost dinnertime and the crew will be com-
ing 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 bus-
ily 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 were stunned to hear 
this. 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. 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 inhabi-
tants 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 thor-
oughly 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 aster-
oid miner sees them once in a while."
	"And wh—, what do they have to do with Monte-
zuma?" 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 mat-
ter of seconds, leaving the crew floating in their space 
suits. Then they grabbed them with some sort of invisi-
ble grappling beam or something and herded them to-
ward 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. "And 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. 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 realized with an internal surge of 
adrenaline 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 were destroying the ships. Through the horrify-
ing, 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," whis-
pered 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 Star-
men?" 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 even-
tually 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 hap-
pen 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 dimin-
ished 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 air-
lock 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 space suits 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 on the inside of the air-
lock. 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 by the air-
lock. When all were suited up and the intercoms were 
on, George told the mining crew to stand aside. Then he 
made a motion to the leader of the invaders to 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 invad-
ers, 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 dis-
heartened 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 finally 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 bed-
rock."
	"Yes sir," said the man addressed and left the room.
Lather addressed another of his crew. "Spelford, es-
cort 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 chairs 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 de-
stroyed.
	"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 de-
stroyed, melted into the rock of the asteroid. The bril-
liant 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 de-
stroy 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 loca-
tion, 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. Additionally, the message 
was encrypted and was designed to travel on the micro-
waves similar to those in the background of space. It 
was highly unlikely that this message would make any-
one curious. And after the message had been sent, the 
projectile would break down into its component parts 
and scatter them.

	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. And 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 be-
tween their legs!"
	"But this story about the 'greegles'—" contributed 
Joe.
	"The greegles sliced those ships up like salami!" in-
sisted 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 be-
lieve 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 just 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. And they 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 unbal-
anced 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 Zim-
bardo? Would he recognize them? Why did he want St. 
George alive?



6: Battle Lines




THE PIRATES' ASTEROID swung in a smooth, private or-
bit 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 as-
tronomical equipment, sky charts, and an enormous in-
ventory 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 in-
credibly 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 cri-
teria of his search pattern and then said "Enter." Within 
seconds several asteroids were marked in his files. He 
brought their profiles up one by one.

	M253.
SHAPE: OBLONG.
MAXIMUM LENGTH: 0.683 MILES.
MAXIMUM WIDTH: 0.307 MILES.
COMPOSITION: 90.568% IRON, 6.443% TIN, 
0.752%
ICE, 2.237% TRACE ELEMENTS; CLICK HERE 
FOR DETAILS.

	Other information was provided, including the aster-
oid's precise location and its speed of motion and rota-
tion. Zimbardo hesitated a moment, then said "Delete." 
He went on to the next entry.

	M3366.
SHAPE: ALMOST PERFECT SPHERE; VARIATION 
<5%.
MEAN DIAMETER, 0.057 MILES.

	The other information was provided. Zimbardo 
smiled. "Ah—nearly solid iron and about 100 yards ex-
actly!" 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 atmos-
phere—these features came on automatically whenever 
anyone came into 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 busi-
ness."
	Zimbardo stood before the assembled company. Be-
hind 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 mat-
ter 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 genera-
tion 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. If they were destroyed, Starlight 
Enterprise's terraformation project would have a severe 
setback—possibly as much as three to four years. The 
Superiors desire such a setback very much and have re-
quested that we make it happen. Now, data gathered 
from analysis has shown that these plants can be re-
moved 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 as-
teroids you've selected and I've checked progress with 
what Stubb is doing. If he has the propulsion units ready 
in ten days, we'll be ready to 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 speaker went on, 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 visi-
tors, Jeff Jenner and Lorry, gasped. Kimball grunted, as 
if a suspicion were 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 Monte-
zuma's asteroid, opened communications, and insisted 
that they were going to land. There was no response. But 
within seconds some kind of weapon 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 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 loca-
tion. They went directly there and picked up all the min-
ers, including St. George, in a very neat operation."
The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Zimbardo?"
	"Yes, what is it?" he responded with obvious irrita-
tion. 
	"Sorry to bother you, sir, but you asked to be in-
formed as soon as the ships returned. The Silver Cloud 
and its four companion ships are expected to dock in 
approximately 45 minutes."
	"Very good. Tell Mr. Lather to put the prisoners into 
cell block 258 for now. I will deal with them later." The 
intercom went off. Zimbardo turned back to the gather-
ing. "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 
was determined that no one would know. 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 of Starlight Enterprise on 
the Moon, forty miles north of Amundsen City. Acces-
sible only by two express elevators, it 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. It was the equiva-
lent of 121 stories above ground level, and only an ob-
servation 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 Ob-
solescence 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, at least twenty 
by twenty-five feet. Patterns in cerulean blue, silver, and 
gray, with flecks of green and violet beautifully com-
plemented 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 bal-
anced. 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 Com-
mander John Lewis of Space Command; Richard's sec-
ond-in-command, John "Rock" Rwakatare, head engi-
neer of the Advanced Design Department of SE; and the 
fathers of the three Starmen, Allen Foster, Keith Seaton, 
and Charlie Taylor. Robert Nolan, founder of Nolan 
Mining Enterprises and a friend and colleague of Rich-
ard Starlight, filled out the number. On two viewscreens 
were stationary images of Oritz Konig on Mars, and 
Steve Cliff returning 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 Re-
ception of Honor. That will have to be postponed. Most 
of you know at least something of the reason why, but 
this hastily-called meeting is 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 Put-
nam, 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 cer-
tain 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. More-
over, 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 the conclusion, Richard continued. "Since the ship 
that escaped headed recklessly at its highest velocity 
toward a certain area of the Belt, we can reasonably as-
sume that the pirates' base is situated on an asteroid not 
far from that area."
	Nolan asked, "Why were the ships from Space Com-
mand 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 sys-
tem.
	"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 detec-
tion systems." The men at the table looked grim. The 
fathers of the Starmen wore especially troubled expres-
sions.
	"Our battle with the pirates is not yet over, I'm 
afraid," said 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 several disquieting 
conclusions.
	"First, the pirate base is probably invisible to radar; it 
can't be seen with normal methods.
	"Second, the pirates have probably outfitted this de-
vice on all their ships, not just the five Steve Cliff ob-
served. 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.
	"Third, and most alarming of all, it is almost impossi-
ble for the pirates to have invented the radar bender on 
their own. Our computer estimated the chance that they 
did so to be approximately 0.0001%. That kind of tech-
nology is beyond any earthly scientific capability. It is 
much more likely that they got it from some alien civili-
zation—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—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 deter-
mined, 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 Sys-
tem has no defense against anything like that. Why, they 
could come in anywhere and invade! They'd be invinci-
ble! We couldn't even see what hit us!"
	Commander Lewis spoke up. "And an alien civiliza-
tion! 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 gath-
ering, 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 unsound-
ness of such a hope is shown by his fall. David fought 
Goliath and won because his heart was in the right 
place. Zimbardo might have weapons and other technol-
ogy 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. And 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 proc-
ess other than radar—perhaps something based on grav-
ity or light absorption. But you can appreciate the obvi-
ous fact, I'm sure, that inventing such machinery will 
take a very long time. No, we 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 men-
tal hooks to hang them on with no noticeable effort at 
all. Joe found languages far more difficult. He preferred 
engine diagrams, flow charts, and working with his 
hands.
	"I don't know!" The lean engineer blasted, exasper-
ated. 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'."
	"We've certainly been doing a lot of that on this out-
ing! The past couple of weeks have seemed about point-
less! 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 Monte-
zuma's Castle and on to Z25. And we complete our mis-
sion 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. "Pre-
pare for deceleration in two minutes."
	The Starmen looked at one another, then at the crew 
of Z25. St. George was already walking toward his 
chair. Each of them could feel his heart suddenly beating 
a little faster. They strapped themselves into their chairs. 
Zip looked out of the window but saw nothing out of the 
ordinary.
	A moment later, the rockets on the Silver Cloud ig-
nited and the ship began to slow. About half an hour 
later, the ship's speed had become extremely slow and 
the view of the stars disappeared. It became apparent to 
the prisoners that they were entering 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 several armed pirates 
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 tun-
nel through which the ships had come. In front of him 
and to his left was a complex of charcoal-dark struc-
tures, lined with silver trim and glinting with many pan-
els of glass. The entire area was powerfully lit by sev-
eral hundred sources hundreds of feet above him. He 
was both impressed and intimidated at the same time.
	When all the prisoners had debarked from the Silver 
Cloud, Spelford gave the orders.
	"Move. This way. Stay in single file."
	The line crossed the field and passed through a sec-
ond 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 didn't waste time on a thorough investigation of the 
newcomers.
	Spelford and his detail escorted the prisoners through 
a 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 corri-
dor 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 cover-
ing 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 go-
ing 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 facili-
ties. On one side of the room was a large window which 
overlooked the landing area and primary work center of 
the asteroid.
	"Nothing fancy, but everything we need," said one of 
St. George's men after a quick look around.
	"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 as-
teroid, the three Starmen looked down and saw a buzz of 
activity. Several 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 power-
lessness. 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 any-
one! 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 as-
tounding 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," or-
dered Zip, looking intently at the asteroid miner and 
drawing him over to the nearest table. Zip gently pushed 
the miner into a chair, then turned another chair and sat 
in it, folding his arms over the back and facing George. 
The asteroid miner told the Starmen the story of when 
he had found 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. "You're tell-
ing us that the pirates didn't make it?"
	"Of course not. As I said, it was abandoned when I 
ran across it. Some other race had to have built it. They 
couldn't have been too different from us, though. 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 dif-
ficult 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. I couldn't get any further than the 
first few stories though."
	"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 was impressed with it, 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. 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 proba-
bly occupied, but now I think we'll be hearing from him 
before too long. Before that happens, I think we'd better 
be gone. This has become urgent now."
	"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 Com-
mand. 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 au-
thorities of population centers in the Asteroid Belt and 
on Mars. The communication had provided what infor-
mation was known about the threat that the pirates mani-
fested. 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 at-
tack and to be ready for instant defensive response. 
	In Amundsen City, Keith Seaton sat at his desk, scan-
ning 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 con-
versing much that night, but both were greatly com-
forted by each other's presence.
	On Ceres, Sim Sala Bim received the encrypted, en-
coded 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 cen-
ter 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. Addition-
ally, under a very rare Presidential command, techni-
cians were working frantically under Earth's pre-
eminent astrophysicist, Stephen Hoshino, trying to de-
vise an advanced means of detecting a ship that was in-
visible 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 contin-
ued 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 ap-
preciably 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 mecha-
nism 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. And 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 irregu-
larity.
	St. George watched them with a mix of curiosity and 
amazement on his face. His men