As he spoke, many of those listening to him felt the level of their anxiety diminishing slightly. Robert Nolan lifted his head. Though his expression was drawn, he was paying attention.

"We must manufacture millions of tiny probes and release these into s.p.a.ce in a systematic fashion over many millions of cubic miles. Their design is quite simple. The laboratories and manufacturing centers of organizations like Starlight Enterprise, Nolan Mining Enterprise, and other companies can create these probes in vast quant.i.ties very quickly, using robotic techniques. Each probe will have gravity instrumentation. Using the microwaves naturally occurring in s.p.a.ce, they will be connected by a vast neural network and thus act as a single instrument, with all data being fed back to various information centers.

"With the data from these probes we should be able to detect any ma.s.sive objects in places where they shouldn't be. Certainly a large asteroid cannot be hidden. The very size of the asteroid with which Zimbardo threatens our planet will work in our favor, since detecting such a large object can be achieved easier and sooner than if he sent, for example, a number of small asteroids such as those that struck Mars."

"Where will the probes be deployed, Dr. Hoshino?" asked Richard. "Our time is short, very short indeed, if we have to manufacture, launch, and deploy the probes in time to locate and then destroy the asteroid.

Even if we produce millions of probes, as you have said, we have millions of cubic miles of s.p.a.ce to search through. In the time available, even trillions of the little probes can't help much.

Theoretically, the asteroid can be anywhere. There are asteroids inside the orbit of Mercury and outside the orbit of Jupiter. But I suspect that you already have an idea where we are to search."

The President answered. "When Zimbardo sent his first message to Mars, evidence of his tampering with the Martian communication system was discovered. This allowed us to trace how his tampering was done and therefore where the signal came from-at least in a general direction.

After he sent his second message, the one to Earth yesterday evening, the signal was traced again. We have learned that his base is moving toward Earth and we have an idea of the speed his base is moving and its direction. The information the Starmen provided confirms what we had learned through our investigations.

"Of course, our figures are somewhat imprecise, and we still have a lot of searching to do, but we have an excellent chance of locating him. It is highly logical that the asteroid he harnessed is from a place in the Belt close to his own asteroid. From what the Starmen reported, he just didn't have time to locate an asteroid as large as he claims to have launched toward Earth from any place too distant from his own base. The probes will therefore be cast in a net in the s.p.a.ce between Earth and the area of the Asteroid Belt in which the pirates' asteroid was found."

Richard Starlight, Robert Nolan, and others had a number of technical questions for Dr. Hoshino regarding the manufacture and deployment of the probes and the time schedule necessary to achieve their goal. At the end of the discussion it was agreed that the two companies, with others, would begin to manufacture the probes according to Stephen Hoshino's design. Launch was planned for five days later, with deployment six to seven days after that.

"O344 coming up on the screen, Zip," announced Mark.

"Not a moment too soon!" shouted Joe. "Food at last!"

It had been a week since the fourteen men aboard the alien s.p.a.ceship had left the pirates' asteroid. They had been traveling under power for four days. Although they had been very sparing in their consumption of the food, they had run out two days earlier. A few ounces of water per person remained in the containers; it had been carefully measured and rationed to last the entire journey to O344. Everyone was thirsty but no one was in danger of becoming dehydrated. All, however, suffered from the pangs of hunger. Mark had a headache that blurred his vision and made his responses slow.

"If it's on the screen, we ought to touch down in a few minutes," said Zip. He was moving slowly and often sat down with his eyes closed. Of the three Starmen, Joe seemed to be the least affected by the two days'

lack of food. The miners were lying down on their bunks. Other than Joe, only George St. George had exhibited much energy in the previous two days, coming forward to the flight deck every few hours to chat with the Starmen.

Zip asked George to prepare his men for touchdown. Deceleration had been gradual, so there was no need for the men to strap into the acceleration couches. However, they would need to be in s.p.a.cesuits in order to leave the ship and enter the SE facility.

An asteroid about ten miles across loomed up on the screen. Joe circled it slowly.

"There it is," he said as a landing pad came into view. A small dome next to the pad was barely visible, since the landscape that had been artificially shaped was on the dark side of the asteroid, away from the sun. The site on O344 was one of dozens of such places marked on the navigational maps. They were unmanned stations stocked with supplies and maintained for explorers, scientists, and others in the employ of Starlight Enterprise. They contained large quant.i.ties of food, water, and other basic necessities, and provided rustic living facilities.

It didn't take Joe long to land the ship on the surface of the small asteroid. It settled down gently just a few yards from the dome.

"I'll need someone to go into the supply cache and get some bolts, Zip.

This ship doesn't have any to keep it fixed to the asteroid-or if it does, I haven't found the controls for them. I'll have to stay aboard until the ship is secure."

"Okay, Joe," Zip responded. "Great flying. You pilot this ship as if you were trained in it."

"That's my job," said Joe. "Don't take too long, though. I'm hungry!"

The men went through the ship's airlock, made the brief walk across the surface of the asteroid, and entered the dome. The dome contained a small airlock leading to a ladder that descended about 15 feet into the asteroid. Zip asked two of St. George's men to locate bolts and go back up to clamp their ship to the surface. Within minutes the alien ship was fastened down tightly and all fourteen men were inside the supply station.

"Food! Toothbrushes! Showers! Clean clothes!" shouted various voices as the men scattered to look over the spartan facility.

"Food!" shouted Joe, and headed for the pantry where George St. George was already standing.

"Relax, Starman!" said St. George, placing his hand on Joe's chest.

"You three men have worked without rest to get us here. Just sit down.

Let us show our grat.i.tude by fixing up the best meal this larder can make possible."

The three Starmen were only too ready to comply. They allowed their tired bodies to sink slowly into the rest sofas, the minimal gravity nestling them gently into the concave surface. The miners who were not a.s.sisting in the preparation of the meal lay down on bunks in the sleeping quarters.

"I don't know if I need sleep or food more," said Mark. He had been at the navigation and communications stations almost without respite for all of his waking hours-and he had slept little. Zip had relieved Joe at the helm some of the time, but the trip had not been an easy one.

They had made the journey as quickly as they could in an unfamiliar ship, having to keep watch at all times against a surprise attack from any pirate ships. Their communications with SE had been limited only to those most urgent, to minimize their exposure to any possible enemies.

SE had made an immediate and joyful response to the Starmen's initial communication. That had been followed within an hour by a report to inform them of Lurton Zimbardo's ultimatum about a large asteroid on a collision course with Earth. The latter message had draped the men in a somber mood. SE had also a.s.sured them that a rescue mission was under way from Ceres, and several ships, including their own Star Ranger, were due in nineteen hours. The Starmen and the miners planned to put that time to good use by resting.

Under St. George's direction, three of the miners put together a feast of canned goods. St. George made a blend of canned meat, potatoes, and vegetable soups, and warmed it to create a hot stew that was more than pa.s.sable. Dried biscuits, rehydrated and quick-baked, were added to the feast. A huge pot of strong, brewed coffee soon added to the savory smells coming from the kitchen.

"It's ready!" called out Sabbath George. He and the others brought huge serving bowls to a large table that was situated in the middle of the room, adjacent to the kitchen. Places had been previously set.

Tired as the men were, it took them only seconds to a.s.semble at the table. George said a few words of thanks and pa.s.sed the first bowl to his right where Joe was seated. Joe grasped the large serving spoon.

The bowl was steaming with the mixture and wisps rose lazily from the ladle as it made several trips from serving bowl to Joe's plate. After he had dished out at least two pounds of stew, he shoved the bowl on to the man at his right and took two biscuits from the central supply.

"Only two biscuits, Joe?" prodded Mark. "Has hunger made you too weak to eat?"

"I'll show you whether I'm too weak to eat. Watch this!" He shoveled a heaping spoonful of stew into his mouth. His chin lifted a notch, his eyes closed, and a satisfied moan escaped his closed lips. He slowly lowered the spoon to the table and lifted both hands as if he were about to embrace someone.

"Taste good?" asked Zip, reaching for the aromatic bowl as it came his way.

Joe chewed and swallowed. "Someone back at the Academy told me once that there was no such thing as a dumb question. He was wrong. That was one." Joe turned to George. "George, this is delicious! I've never tasted anything better!"

George glanced over at the food cans that had been in storage for several years. "A hungry man will enjoy anything. A very hungry man will consider even canned goods to be ambrosia." But by that time the serving bowl had gotten around to George, and he stopped to fill his own plate.

16: A Dark Spirit

TO STARMAN David Foster, it was a soft, rainy morning. He had just awakened after a night on the SE supply asteroid O344, and the only sound was the faint hum of the operating system. He wrapped himself a little more snugly into his blanket and kept his eyes shut. His imagination easily turned the murmur into the soft sound of rain sifting through the leaves of the tree outside his bedroom window on his uncle's farm in West Virginia. With slightly more effort he could imagine a drizzle drumming lightly on the wooden shingles above and drifting out onto the empty fields in the early autumn days shortly after harvest.

His Uncle Francis and Aunt Clare were dear to David. Although he had been raised on the Moon, close to his father's work, he had been born in Clark's Bridge Crossing, the village near their farm. From the time he was old enough to show any notice of the world around him, David had loved the stars. Even now, he loved interplanetary travel, exploration, and adventure better than anything, but in his heart was an emotionally-intense place where he kept his memories of the West Virginia farm where he had spent so much of his childhood.

The small towns and family-owned farms had become indispensable to the rebuilding of America after the Collapse. In the United States the nuclear devastation of those horrifying years had been severe. Most major cities had been destroyed, but much of the outlying and rural areas had survived. In the latter half of the 21st century new leadership arose from these areas, and the American spirit, which for a hundred years had gradually been eclipsed by special-interest groups, lobbyists, fringe organizations, and major corrupt economic interests, was largely purified. The "old values" became popular again, if not always followed. A generation of leaders arose with an appeal similar to that enjoyed by the "log cabin" presidents. A candidate who claimed to have basic values and homespun philosophy was guaranteed to win support from the remaining American population.

With his eyes still closed, David smiled. He tried to imagine the aroma of his Aunt Clare's freshly-ground coffee coming from the kitchen, mingled with the smell of hot-off-the-griddle blueberry pancakes. The drizzle was stopping, and the dawnlight of the newly-risen sun was sending sparkles through the light rainy haze that shrouded the fields and crowning the eastern fields with the arc of a rainbow. The haze would soon burn off, leaving the dark earth sodden and leaves dripping.

He smiled even wider. He could hear his aunt's voice now...

"Come and get it, Starmen!" pealed the voice of George St. George. "Got some more of that engine-oil coffee steaming away, and I managed to whip together some biscuits from some powdered stuff I found!"

Zip's eyes shot open and took in the neutral walls of the cubicle where he, Mark, and Joe had slept. The faint hum of O344's system was drowned out now with the rustle of human movement as the asteroid miners gathered around the table.

"There's some sort of orangy liquid I mixed up from some other powder, too! Probably has some good vitamins in it!"

In minutes the Starmen and miners were tucking in to the best that George St. George could do with the supplies at hand.

After breakfast, the Starmen sat in the lounge. Mark was poring over the printout that he had taken from the power plant on the pirates'

asteroid. He had a digital copy of much of the layout of the asteroid, and information on the power plants, propulsion structures, and sheathing equipment. The papers were filled with charts, maps, and diagrams; a few sections were written in an unintelligible, alien language. He couldn't even tell which symbols were letters and which were numbers.