The Runaway Asteroid | Page 6

SPLENDOR of the Asteroid Belt stretched away in all directions, and the piercing
light of uncountable stars filled the background. Such a 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 position of pilot under David's direction. Joe had flown everything from
ancient biplanes to interplanetary rockets. He understood the principles of propulsion and
flight, and with amazing facility could learn to fly almost any vehicle designed for
traveling through an atmosphere or the vacuum of space.
Mark Seaton had naturally become the navigator and engine master of the Starman crew.
He specialized in engines and large, complex machinery. He had always had a talent for
understanding machines, and he knew the workings of the average rocket from stem to
stern.
David Foster, like all Starmen, was able to navigate and fly his own ship, but had a

specialty in Deep Space exploration and survival skills. Whenever he was faced with a
problem, he could think it through and come up with a solution with the equipment
available. He was a natural leader. He excelled at organization and decision-making, and
Joe and Mark were glad to be a part of the Starman team under Zip's leadership.
Joe continued to relate his observations. "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 powerful 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 Commander De Koven what he wants us to do?"
"Okay, Zip."
Mark prepared the message and sent it off. The response would come through after a
delay of several minutes. As they waited, Joe said, "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, 'specially 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'mon, 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. There were mashed
potatoes, 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 and 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