Anton's expression did not change. "And now you see me.
"But not privately, Captain." Lucky's lips thinned and closed with great deliberation.
Anton looked quickly about. A dozen of his men in every stage of space-suit undress had crowded into the room, watching and listening with gaping interest.
He reddened slightly. His voice rose. "Get on your business, scum. I want a complete report on this ship. And keep your weapons ready. There may be more men on board and if anyone else gets caught as Dingo did, he'll be tossed out an air-lock."
There was slow, shuffling motion outward.
Anton's voice was a sudden scream. "Quickly! Quickly!" One snaking gesture, and a blaster was in his hand. "I'll count three and shoot. One... two..."
They were gone.
He faced Lucky again. His eyes glittered and his breath came and went quickly through pinched white nostrils.
"Discipline is a great thing," he breathed. "They must fear me. They must fear me more than they fear capture by the Terrestrial Navy. Then a ship is one mind and one arm. My mind and arm."
Yes, thought Lucky, one mind and one arm, but whose? Yours?
Anton's smile had returned, boyish, friendly, and open. "Now tell me what you want."
Lucky jerked a thumb toward the other's blaster, still drawn and ready. He matched the other's smile. "Do you intend shooting? If so, get it over with."
Anton was shaken. "Space! You're a cool one. I'll shoot when I please. I like it this way. What's your name?" The blaster held on its line with deadly steadiness.
"Williams, Captain."
"You're a tall man, Williams. You look strong. And yet here I sit and with just a pressure of my thumb you're dead. I think it's very instructive. Two men and one blaster is the whole secret of power. Did you ever think of power, Williams?"
"Sometimes."
"It's the only meaning to life, don't you think?"
"Maybe."
"I see you're anxious to do business. Let's begin. Why are you here?"
"I've heard of pirates."
"We're the men of the asteroids, Williams. No other name."
"That suits me. I've come to join the men of the asteroids."
"You flatter us, but my thumb is still on the blaster contact. Why do you want to join?"
"Life is closed on Earth, Captain. A man like myself could settle down to be an accountant or an engineer. I might even run a factory or sit behind a desk and vote at stockholders' meetings. It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, it would be routine. I would know my life from beginning to end. There would be no adventure, no uncertainty."
"You're a philosopher, Williams. Go on."
"There are the colonies, but I'm not attracted by a life as a farm boy on Mars or as a vat tender on Venus. What does attract me is the Me on the asteroids. You live hard and dangerously. A man can rise to "power as you have. As you say, power gives meaning to life."
"So you stow away on an empty ship?"
"I didn't know it was empty. I had-to stow away somewhere. Legitimate space passage comes high and passports to the asteroids aren't being handed out these days. I knew this ship was part of a mapping expedition. The word had got around. It was headed for the asteroids. So I waited till just before it blasted off. That's when everybody would be busy getting ready for take-off and yet the air-locks would still be open. I had a pal take a sentry out of circulation.
"I figured we'd stop at Ceres. It would be bound to be Prime Base for any asteroid expedition. Once there, it seemed to me I could get off without trouble. The crew would be astronomers and mathematicians. Snatch off their glasses and they'd be blind. Point a blaster at them and they'd die of fright. Once on Ceres I'd contact the pi-The men of the asteroids, somehow. Simple."
"Only you got a surprise when you boarded ship? Is that it?" asked Anton.
"I'll say. No one aboard and before I could get it straight in my mind that there wasn't anyone aboard, it blasted off."
"What's it all about, Williams? How do you figure it?" "I don't. It beats me."
"Well, let's see if we can find out. You and I together." He gestured with his blaster and said sharply, "Come on".
The pirate chief led the way out of the control room into the long central corridor of the ship. A group of men came out of a door up ahead. They rumbled short comments at one another and stilled into silence when they caught Anton's eyes.
Anton said, "Come here."
They approached. One wiped a grizzled mustache with the back of his hand and said, "No one else on board this ship, Captain."
"All right. What do you think of the ship?"
There were four of them. The number increased as more men joined the group.
Anton's voice grew edgy. "What do any of you think of the ship?"
Dingo pushed his way forward. He had got rid of his space-suit and Lucky could see him as a man. It was not altogether a pleasant sight. He was broad and heavy and his arms were slightly bowed as they hung loosely from bulging shoulders. There were tufts of dark hair on the back of his fingers and the scar on his upper lip twitched. His eyes glared at Lucky.
He said, "I don't like it."
"You don't like the ship?" Anton asked sharply.
Dingo hesitated. He straightened his arms, threw back his shoulders. "It stinks."
"Why? Why do you say that?"
"I could take it apart with a can opener. Ask the rest and see if they don't agree with me. This crate is put together with toothpicks. It wouldn't hold together for three months."
There were murmurs of agreement. The man with the gray mustache said, "Beg your pardon, Captain, but the wiring is taped in place. It's a two-bit job. The insulation is almost burnt through already."
"All the welding was done in a real hurry," said another. "The seams stand out like that." He held out a thick and dirty thumb.
"What about repairs?" asked Anton.
Dingo said, "It would take a year and a Sunday. It isn't worth it. Anyway, we couldn't do it here. We'd have to take it to one of the rocks."
Anton turned to Lucky, explaining suavely, "We always refer to the asteroids as 'rocks,' you understand."
Lucky nodded.
Anton said, "Apparently my men feel that they wouldn't care to ride this ship. Why do you suppose the Earth government would send out an empty ship and such a jerry-built job to boot?"
"It keeps getting more and more confusing," said Lucky.
"Let's complete our investigation, then."
Anton walked first. Lucky followed closely. The men tagged behind silently. The back of Lucky's neck prickled. Anton's back was straight and fearless, as though he expected no attack from Lucky. He might well feel so. Ten armed men were on Lucky's heels.
They glanced through the small rooms, each designed for utmost economy in space. There was the computation room, the small observatory, the photographic laboratory, the galley and the bunk rooms.
They slipped down to the lower level through a narrow curving tube within which the pseudo-grav field was neutralized so that either direction could be "up" or "down" at will. Lucky was motioned down first, Anton following so closely that Lucky barely had time to scramble out of the way (his legs buckling slightly with the sudden access of weight) before the pirate chief was upon him. Hard, heavy space-boots missed his face by inches.
Lucky regained his balance and whirled angrily, but Anton was standing there smiling pleasantly, his blaster lined up straight and true at Lucky's heart.
"A thousand apologies," he said. "Fortunately you are quite agile."
"Yes," muttered Lucky.
On the lower level were the engine room and the power plant; the empty berths where the lifeboats had been. There were the fuels store, the food and water stores, the air fresheners, and the atomic shielding.
Anton murmured, "Well, what do you think of it all? Shoddy, perhaps, but I see nothing out of order."
"It's hard to tell like this," said Lucky.
"But you must have lived on this ship for days."
"Sure, but I didn't spend time looking it over. I just waited for it to get somewhere."
"I see. Well, back to upper level."
Lucky was first "down" the travel tube again. This time he landed lightly and sprang six feet to one side with the grace of a cat.
Seconds passed before Anton popped out of the tube. "Jumpy?" he asked.
Lucky flushed.
One by one the pirates appeared. Anton did not wait for all of them, but started down the corridor again.
"You know," he said, "you'd think we'd been all over this ship. Most people would say so. Wouldn't you say so?"
"No," said Lucky calmly, "I wouldn't. We haven't been in the washroom."
Anton scowled and for more than just a moment the pleasantness was gone from his face, and only a tight, white anger flashed in its place.
Then it passed. He adjusted a stray lock of hair on his head, then regarded the back of his hand with interest. "Well, let's look there."
Several of the men whistled and the rest exclaimed in a variety of ways when the appropriate door clicked open.
"Very nice," murmured Anton. "Very nice. Luxurious, I would say."
It was! There was no question of that. There were separate stall showers, three of them, with their plumbing arranged for sudsing water (hike-warm) and rinsing water (hot or cold). There were also half a dozen washbowls in ivory-chrome, with shampoo stands, hair driers and needle-jet skin stimulators. Nothing that was necessary was missing.
"There's certainly nothing shoddy about this," said Anton. "It's like a show on the sub-etherics, eh, Williams? What do you make of this?"
"I'm confused."
Anton's smile vanished like the fleeting flash of a speeding space-ship across a visiplate. "I'm not. Dingo, come in here."
The pirate chief said to Lucky, "It's a simple problem, you. We have a ship here with no one aboard, thrown together in the cheapest possible way, as though it were done in a hurry, but with a washroom that is the last word. Why? I think it's just in order to have as many pipes as possible in the washroom. And why that? So that we'd never suspect that one or two of them were dummies... Dingo, which pipe is it?"
Dingo kicked one.
"Well, don't kick it, you misbegotten fool. Take it apart."
Dingo did so, a micro-heatgun flashing briefly. He yanked out wires.
"What's that, Williams?" demanded Anton.
"Wires," said Lucky briefly.
"I know that, you lump." He was suddenly furious. "What else? I'll tell you what else. Those wires are set to explode every ounce of the atomite on board ship as soon as we take the ship back to base."
Lucky jumped. "How can you tell that?"
"You're surprised? You didn't know this was one big trap? You didn't know we were supposed to take this back to base for repairs? You didn't know we were supposed to explode ourselves and the base, too, into hot dust? Why, you're here as the bait to make sure we were-properly fooled. Only I'm not a fool!"
His men were crowding close. Dingo licked his lips.
With a snap Anton brought up his blaster and there was no mercy, no dream of mercy, in his eyes.
"Wait! Great Galaxy, wait! I know nothing about this. You have no right to shoot me without cause." He tensed for a jump, one last fight before death.
"No right!" Anton, eyes glaring, lowered his blaster suddenly. "How dare you say no right. I have all rights on this ship."
"You can't kill a good man. The men of the asteroids need good men. Don't throw one away for nothing."
A sudden, unexpected murmur came from some of the pirates.
A voice said, "He's got guts, Cap'n. Maybe we could use-"
It died away as Anton turned.
He turned back. "What makes you a good man, Williams? Answer that and I'll consider."
"I'll hold my own against anyone here. Bare fists or any weapon."
"So?" Anton's teeth bared themselves. "You hear that, men?"
There was an affirmative roar.
"It's your challenge, Williams. Any weapon. Good! Come out of this alive and you won't be shot. You'll be considered for membership in my crew."
"I have your word, Captain?"
"You have my word, and I never break my word. The crew hears me. If you come out of this alive."
"Whom do I fight?" demanded Lucky.
"Dingo here. A good man. Anyone who can beat him is a very good man."
Lucky measured the huge lump of gristle and sinew standing before him, its little eyes glittering with anticipation, and glumly agreed with the captain.
But he said firmly, "What weapons? Or is it bare fists?"
"Weapons! Push-tubes, to be exact. Push-tubes in open space."
For a moment Lucky found it difficult to maintain an appropriate stolidity.
Anton smiled. "Are you afraid it won't be a proper test for you? Don't be. Dingo is the best man with a push-gun in our entire fleet."
Lucky's heart plummeted. A push-gun duel required an expert. Notoriously so! Played as he had played it in college days, it was a sport. Fought by professionals, it was deadly!
And he was no professional!
