by Isaac Asimov
He closed the stroboscopics with a sudden movement. Even though physically safe, no man could stare at the Sun from that distance without becoming oppressed by the insignificance of Earth and all things Earthly.
* * *
The Shooting Starr had whipped half around the Sun and was now receding rapidly past the orbits of Mercury and Venus. It was decelerating now. The ship's prow opposed the direction of its flight and its powerful main engines were acting as brakes.
Once past Venus's orbit, Lucky removed his shield and stowed it away. The ship's cooling system strained to get rid of the excess heat. Drinking water was still uncomfortably hot and the canned foods bulged where liquid within had bubbled into gas.
The Sun was shrinking. Lucky looked at it. It was an even, glowing sphere. Its irregularities, its churning spots, and heaving prominences could no longer be seen. Only its corona, always visible in space, though visible on Earth only during eclipses, thrust out in every direction for millions of miles. Lucky shuddered involuntarily to think that he had passed through it.
He passed within fifteen million miles of Earth, and through his telescope he spied the familiar outlines of the continents peeping through the ragged white masses of cloud banks. He felt a twinge of homesickness and then a new resolve to keep war away from the teeming, busy billions of human beings that inhabited that planet, which was the origin of all the men that now occupied the far-flung star systems of the Galaxy.
Then the Earth, too, receded.
Past Mars and back into the asteroid belt, Lucky still aimed at the Jovian system, that miniature solar system within the greater one. At its center was Jupiter, larger than all the other planets combined. About it swung four giant moons, three of them, lo, Europa, and Callisto, about the size of the Earth's Moon, and the fourth, Ganymede, much larger. Ganymede, in fact, was larger than Mercury, and almost as large as Mars. In addition there were dozens of moonlets, ranging from some hundreds of miles in diameter down to insignificant rocks.
In the ship's telescope Jupiter was a growing yellow globe, marked with faintly orange stripes, one of which bellied out into what was once known as the "Great Red Spot." Three of the main moons, including Ganymede, were on one side, the fourth was on the other.
Lucky had been in guarded communication with the Council's main offices on the Moon for the better part of a day now. His Ergometrics probed space with widely stretching fingers. It detected many ships, but Lucky watched only for the one with the Sirian motor pattern which he would recognize with certainty the instant it appeared.
Nor did he fail. At a distance of twenty million miles, the first quiverings roused his suspicions. He veered in the proper direction, and the characteristic curves grew more pronounced.
At one hundred thousand miles, his telescope showed it as a faint dot. At ten thousand, it had form and shape and was Anton's ship.
At a thousand miles (with Ganymede still fifty million miles away from both ships), Lucky sent out his first message, a demand that Anton turn his ship back toward Earth.
At one hundred miles Lucky received his answer-a blast of energy that made his generators whine and shook the Shooting Starr as though it had collided with another ship.
Lucky's tired face took on a drawn look.
Anton's ship was better-armed than he had expected.
Chapter 15
Part Of The Answer
For an hour the maneuvers of both ships were indecisive. Lucky had the faster ship and the better, but Captain Anton had a crew. Each of Anton's men could specialize. One could focus and one could release, while a third could control the reactor banks and Anton himseh0 could direct operations.
Lucky, trying to do everything at once and by himseh0, had to rely heavily on words.
"You can't get to Ganymede, Anton, and your friends won't dare tip their hand by coming out now before they know what's up… You're all through, Anton; we know all your plans… There's no use trying to get a message through to Ganymede, Anton; we're blanketing the sub-ether from you to Jupiter. Nothing can get through… Government ships are coming, Anton. Count your minutes. You don't have many, unless you surrender… Give up, Anton. Give up."
And all this while the Shooting Starr dodged through as concentrated a fire as Lucky had ever seen. Nor were all the blasts successfully dodged. The Shooter's energy stores began to show the strain. Lucky would have liked to believe that Anton's ship was suffering equally, but he himseh0 was aiming few blasts at Anton and landing virtually none.
He dared not take his eyes off the screen. Terrestrial ships, speeding to the scene, would not be there for hours. In those hours, if Anton beat down his energy banks, broke away, and made good head toward Ganymede, while a limping Shooting Starr could only pursue, without catching… Or if a pirate fleet suddenly sparkled on-screen…
Lucky dared not follow those lines of thought further. Perhaps he had been wrong in not entrusting the interception to government ships in the first place. No, he told himself, only the Shooting Starr could have caught Anton still fifty million miles from Ganymede; only the Shooter's speed; more important still, only the Shooter's Er-gometers. At this distance from Ganymede it was safe to call in units of the fleet for the kill. Closer to Ganymede and fleet action would have been unsafe.
Lucky's receiver, open all this time, was suddenly activated. Anton's face filled it, smiling and carefree.
"You got away from Dingo again, I see."
Lucky said, "Again? You're admitting he was working under orders in the push duel!"
An energy feeler toward Lucky's ship suddenly hardened into a beam of disruptive force. Lucky moved aside with an acceleration that wrenched him.
Anton laughed. "Don't watch me too closely. We almost caught you then with a lulu. Certainly Dingo was working under orders. We knew what we were doing. Dingo didn't know who you really were, but I did. Nearly from the first."
"Too bad the knowledge didn't help you," said Lucky.
"It's Dingo that it hasn't helped. It may amuse you to know that he has been, shall we say, executed. It's bad to make mistakes. But this kind of talk is out of place here. I'm only plating you to say that this has been fun, but I'll be going now."
"You have nowhere to go," said Lucky.
"I'll try Ganymede."
"You'll be stopped."
"By government ships? I don't see them yet. And there's not one that can catch me in time."
"I can catch you."
"You have caught me. But what can you do with me? From the way you're fighting, you must be the only man on board. If I had known that from the beginning, I wouldn't have bothered with you as long as this. You can't fight a whole crew."
Lucky said in a low, intense voice, "I can ram you. I can smash you completely."
"And yourself. Remember that."
"That wouldn't matter."
"Please. You sound like a space-scout. You'll be reciting the junior scout-patrol oath next."
Lucky raised his voice. "You men aboard the ship, listen! If your captain tries to break away in the direction of Ganymede, I will ram the ship. It is certain death for all of you, unless you surrender. I promise you all a fair trial. I promise all of you the utmost consideration possible if you co-operate with us. Don't let Anton throw your lives away for the sake of his Sirian friends."
"Talk on, government boy, talk on," said Anton. "I'm letting them listen. They know what kind of a trial they can expect and they know what kind of consideration, too. An injection of enzymic poison." His fingers made the quick movements of someone inserting a needle into another's skin. "That's what they'll get. They're not afraid of you. Good-by, government boy."
The needles on Lucky's gravimetrics wavered downward as Anton's ship picked up speed and moved away. Lucky watched his visiplates. Where were the government ships? Blast all space, where were the government ships?
He let acceleration take hold. Gravimetric needles moved upward again.
The miles between the ships were
sliced away. Anton's ship put on more speed; so did the Shooting Starr. But the accelerative possibilities of the Shooter were higher.
The smile on Anton's face did not alter. "Fifty miles away," he said. Then, "Forty-five." Another pause. "Forty. Have you said your prayers, government boy?"
Lucky did not answer. For him there was no way out. He would have to ram. Sooner than let Anton get through, sooner than allow war to come to Earth, he would have to stop the pirates by suicide, if there were no other way. The ships were curving toward one another in a long, slow tangent.
"Thirty," said Anton lazily. "You're not frightening anyone. You'll look a fool in the end. Veer off and go home, Starr."
"Twenty-five," retorted Lucky firmly. "You have fifteen minutes to surrender or die." He himself, he reflected, had the same fifteen minutes to win or die.
A face appeared behind Anton's in the visiplate. It held a finger to pale, tight lips. Lucky's eyes might have flickered. He tried to conceal that by looking away, then coming back.
Both ships were at maximum acceleration.
"What's the matter, Starr?" asked Anton. "Scared? Heart beating fast?" His eyes were dancing and his lips were parted.
Lucky had the sudden, sure knowledge that Anton was enjoying this, that he considered it an exciting game, that it was only a device whereby he might demonstrate his power. Lucky knew at that moment that Anton would never surrender, that he would allow himself to be rammed rather than back away. And Lucky knew that there was no escape from death.
"Fifteen miles," Lucky said.
It was Hansen's face behind Anton. The hermit's! And there was something in his hand.
"Ten miles," said Lucky. Then, "Six minutes. I'll ram you. By space, I'll ram you."
It was a blaster! Hansen held a blaster.
Lucky's breath came tightly. If Anton turned…
But Anton was not going to miss a second of Lucky's face if he could help it. He was waiting to see the fright come and grow. To Lucky, that was plain as could be in the pirate's expression. Anton would not have turned for a much noisier event than the careful lifting of a blaster.
Anton caught it in the back. Death came too suddenly for the eager smile to disappear from his face, and though life left it, the look of cruel joy did not. Anton fell forward across the visiplate and for a moment his face remained pressed there, larger than life-size, leering at Lucky out of dead eyes.
Lucky heard Hansen's shout, "Back, all of you. Do you want to die? We're giving up. Come and get us, Starr!"
Lucky veered the direction of acceleration by two degrees. Enough to miss.
His Ergometers were registering the motors of approaching government ships strongly now. They were coming at last.
The screens on Anton's ship were glowing white as a sign of surrender.
* * *
It was almost an axiom that the fleet was never entirely pleased when the Council of Science interfered too much in what they considered to be the province of the military. Especially so when the interference was spectacularly successful. Lucky Starr knew that well. He was quite prepared for the admiral's poorly hidden disapproval.
The admiral said, "Dr. Conway has explained the situation adequately, Starr, and we commend you for your actions. However, you must realize that the fleet has been aware of the Sirian danger for some time now and had a careful program of its own. These independent actions on the part of the Council can be harmful. You might mention that to Dr. Conway. Now I have been requested by the Co-ordinator to co-operate with the Council in the next stages of the fight against the pirates, but," he looked stubborn, "I cannot agree to your suggestion that we delay an attack on Ganymede. I think the fleet is capable of making its own decisions where battle, and victory are concerned."
The admiral was in his fifties and unused to consulting on equal terms with anyone, let alone a youngster of half his age. His square-cut face with its bristly gray mustache showed it.
Lucky was tired. The reaction, now that Anton's ship had been taken in tow and its crew in custody, had set in. He managed, however, to be very respectful. He said, "I think that if we mop up the asteroids first, the Sirians on Ganymede will automatically cease being a problem."
"Good Galaxy, man, how do you mean 'mop up.' We've been trying to do that for twenty-five years without success. Mopping up the asteroids is like chasing feathers. As for the Sirian base, we know where it is, and we have a good notion as to its strength." He smiled briefly. "Oh, it may be hard for the Council to realize this, but the fleet is on its toes as well as they are. Perhaps even more so. For instance, I know that the power at my command is enough to break their strength on Ganymede. We are ready for the battle."
"I have no doubt that you are and that you can defeat the Sirians. But the ones on Ganymede are not all the Sirians there are. You may be ready for a battle, but are you ready for a long and costly war?"
The admiral reddened. "I have been asked to cooperate, but I cannot do so at the risk of Earth's safety. I can under no conditions lend my voice to a plan which involves dispersing our fleet among the asteroids, while a Sirian expedition is in being in the Solar System."
"May I have an hour?" interrupted Lucky. "One hour to speak with Hansen, the Cerean captive I had brought aboard this ship just before you boarded, sir?"
"How will that help?"
"May I have an hour to show you?"
The admiral's lips pressed together. "An hour may be valuable. It may be priceless… Well, begin, but quickly. Let's see how it goes."
"Hansen!" called Lucky without taking his calm eyes from the admiral.
The hermit entered from the bunk room. He looked tired, but managed a smile for Lucky. His stay on the pirate ship had apparently left his spirits unmarked.
He said, "I've been admiring your ship, Mr. Starr. It's quite a piece of metal."
"Look here," said the admiral, "none of that. Get on with it, Starr! Never mind your ship."
Lucky said, "This is the situation, Mr. Hansen. We've stopped Anton, with your invaluable help, for which I thank you. That means we've delayed the start of hostilities with Sirius. However, we need more than delay. We must remove the danger completely, and as the admiral will tell you, our time is very short."
"How can I help?" asked Hansen.
"By answering my questions."
"Gladly, but I've told you all I know. I'm sorry that it turned out to be worth so little."
"Yet the pirates believed you to be a dangerous man. They risked a great deal to get you out of our hands."
"I can't explain that."
"Is it possible that you have a piece of knowledge without being aware of it? Something that could be deadly for them?"
"I don't see how."
"Well, they trusted you. By the information you yourself gave me, you were rich; a man with good investments on Earth. Certainly you were much better off than the average hermit. Yet the pirates treated you well. Or at least they didn't mistreat you. They didn't rifle your belongings. In fact, they left your very luxurious home completely in peace."
"Remember, Mr. Starr, I helped them in return."
"Not very much. You said that you allowed them to land on your rock, to leave people there sometimes and that's about all. If they had simply shot you down, they could have had that and your quarters as well. In addition, they would not have had to worry about your becoming an informer. You eventually did become one, you know."
Hansen's eyes shifted. "That's the way it was, though. I told you the truth."
"Yes, what you told me was true. It wasn't the whole truth, however. I say that there must have been a good reason for the pirates to trust you so completely. They must have known that it meant your life to go to the government."
"I told you that," said Hansen mildly.
"You said that you had incriminated yourself by helping the pirates, but they trusted you when they first arrived, before you had begun helping them. Otherwise they would have blasted you to begin with.
Now, let me guess. I'd say that once, before you became a hermit, you were a pirate yourself, Hansen, and that Anton and men like him knew about it. What do you say?"
Hansen's face went white.
Lucky said, "What do you say, Hansen?"
Hansen's voice was very soft. "You are right, Mr. Starr. I was once a member of the crew of a pirate ship. That was a long time ago. I have tried to live it down. I retired to the asteroids and did my best to be dead as far as Earth was concerned. When a new group of pirates arose in the Solar System and entangled me, I had no choice but to play along with them.
"When you landed, I found my first chance to leave; my first chance to take the risk of facing the law. Twenty-five years had passed, after all. And I would have in my favor the fact that I had risked my life to save the life of a Councilman. That was why I was so anxious to fight the pirate raiders on Ceres. I wanted to make another point in my favor. Finally, I killed Anton, saving your life a second time, and giving Earth a breathing space, you tell me, in which a war may be prevented. I was a pirate, Mr. Starr, but that's gone, and I think I've evened the score."
"Good," said Lucky, "as far as it goes. Now do you have any information for us that you didn't mention before?"
Hansen shook his head.
Lucky said, "You didn't tell us you were a pirate."
"That was irrelevant, really. And you found out for yourself. I didn't try to deny it."
"Well, then let's see if we can find anything else which you won't deny. You see, you still haven't told the whole truth."
Hansen looked surprised. "What remains?"
"The fact that you've never stopped being a pirate."
The fact that you are a person that was only mentioned once in my hearing, and that by one of Anton's crewmen; shortly after my push-gun duel with Dingo. The fact I that you are the so-called Boss. You, Mr. Hansen, are the mastermind of the asteroid pirates."