Lucky Starr and the Pirates of the Asteroids
Chapter 6 What The Hermit Knew

Lucky had seen few such luxurious rooms even on Earth. It was thirty feet long, twenty wide, and thirty high. A balcony circled it. Above and below the walls were lined with book films. A wall projector was set on a pedestal, while on another was a gemlike model of the Galaxy. The lighting was entirely indirect.
As soon as he set foot within the room, he felt the tug of pseudo-grav motors. It wasn't set at Earth normal. From the feel of it it seemed somewhere between Earth and Mars normal. There was a delightful sensation of lightness and yet enough pull to allow full muscular co-ordination.
The hermit had removed his space-suit and suspended it over a white plastic trough into which the frost that had collected thickly over it when they stepped out of frozen space and into the warm, moist air of the room might trickle as it melted.
He was tall and straight, his face was pink and un-lined, but his hair was quite white, as were his bushy eyebrows, and the veins stood out on the back of his hands.
He said politely, "May I help you with your suit?"
Lucky came to life. "That's all right." He clambered out quickly. "This is an unusual place you have here."
"You like it?" Hansen smiled. "It took many years to make it look like this. Nor is this all there is to my little
home." He seemed filled with a quiet pride.
"I imagine so," said Lucky. "There must be a power-plant for light and heat as well as to keep the pseudo-grav field alive. You must have an air purifier and re-placer, water supplies, food stores, all that. "That's right." "A hermit's life is not bad."
The hermit was obviously both proud and pleased. "It doesn't have to be," he said. "Sit down, Williams, sit down. Would you like a drink?"
"No, thank you." Lucky lowered himself into an armchair. Its apparently normal seat and back masked a soft diamagnetic field that gave under his weight only so far, then achieved a balance that molded itself to every curve of his body. "Unless you can scare up a cup of coffee?
"Easily!" The old man stepped into an alcove. In seconds he was back with a fragrant and steaming cup, plus a second for himself.
The arm of Lucky's chair unfolded into a narrow ledge at the proper touch of Hansen's toe and the hermit set down one cup into an appropriate recess. As he did so he paused to stare at the younger man. Lucky looked up. "Yes?" Hansen shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing. They faced one another. The lights in the more distant parts of the large room faded until only the area immediately surrounding the two men was clear to vision. "And now if you'll pardon an old man's curiosity, said the hermit, "I'd like to ask you why you've come here."
"I didn't come. I was brought," said Lucky.
"You mean you're not one of-" Hansen paused.
"No, I'm not a pirate. At least, not yet."
Hansen put down his cup and looked troubled. "I don't understand. Perhaps I've said things I shouldn't have."
"Don't worry about it. I'm going to be one of them soon enough."
Lucky finished his coffee and then, choosing his words carefully, began with his boarding of the Atlas on the Moon and carried it through to the moment.
Hansen listened in absorption. "And are you sure this is what you want to do, young man, now that you've seen a little of what the life is like?"
I'm sure.
"Why, for Earth's sake?"
"Exactly. For the sake of Earth and what it did to me. It's no place to live. Why did you come out here?"
"It's a long story, I'm afraid. You needn't look alarmed. I won't tell it. I bought this asteroid long ago as a place for small vacations, and I grew to like it. I kept enlarging the room space, brought furniture and book films from Earth little by little. Eventually I found I had all I needed here. So why not stay here permanently? I asked myself. And I did stay here permanently."
"Sure. Why not? You're smart. Back there it's a mess. Too many people. Too many rut jobs. Next to impossible to get out to the planets, and if you do, it means a job of manual labor. No opportunity for a man any more unless he comes to the asteroids. I'm not old enough to settle down like you. But for a young fellow it's a free life and an exciting one. There's room to be boss."
"The ones who are already boss don't like young fellows with boss notions in their head. Anton, for instance. I've seen him and I know."
"Maybe, but so far he's kept his word," said Lucky. "He said if I came out winner over this Dingo, I'd have my chance to join the men of the asteroids. It looks as though I'm getting the chance."
"It looks as though you're here, that's all. What if he returns with proof, or what he calls proof, that you're a government man."
"tt ›i_?›
He won t.
"And if he does? Just to get rid of you?"
Lucky's face darkened and again Hansen looked at him curiously, frowning a bit.
Lucky said, "He wouldn't. He can use a good man and he knows it. Besides, why are you preaching to me? You're out here yourself playing ball with them."
Hansen looked down. "It's true. I shouldn't interfere with you. It's just that being alone here so long, I'm apt to talk too much when a person does come along, just to hear the sound of voices. Look, it's about time for dinner. I would be glad to have you eat with me in silence, if you'd rather. Or else we'll talk about anything you choose."
"Well, thanks, Mr. Hansen. No hard feelings."
"Good."
Lucky followed Hansen through a door into a small pantry lined with canned food and concentrates of all sorts. None of the brand names familiar to Lucky were represented. Instead the contents of each can were described in brightly colored etchings that were themselves integral parts of the metal.
Hansen said, "I used to keep fresh meat in a special freeze room. You can get the temperature down all the way on an asteroid, you know, but it's been two years since I could get that kind of supplies."
He chose half a dozen cans off the shelves, plus a container of milk concentrate. At his suggestion Lucky took up a sealed gallon container of water from a lower shelf.
The hermit set the table quickly. The cans were of the self-heating type that opened up into dishes with enclosed cutlery.
Hansen said, with some amusement, indicating the cans, "I've got a whole valley on the outside brim-filled with these things. Discarded ones, that is. A twenty years' accumulation."
The food was good, but strange. It was yeast-base material, the kind only the Terrestrial Empire produced. Nowhere else in the Galaxy was the pressure of population so great, the billions of people so numerous, that yeast culture had been developed. On Venus, where most of the yeast products were grown, almost any variety of food imitation could be produced: steaks, nuts, butter, candy. It was as nourishing as the real thing, too. To Lucky, however, the flavor was not quite Venusian. There was a sharper tang to it.
"Pardon me for being nosy," he said, "but all this takes money, doesn't it?"
"Oh yes, and I have some. I have investments on Earth. Quite good ones. My checks are always honored, or at least they were until not quite two years ago."
"What happened then?"
"The supply ships stopped coming. Too risky on account of the pirates. It was a bad blow. I had a good backlog of supplies in most things, but I can imagine how it must have been for the others."
"The others?"
"The other hermits. There are hundreds of us. They're not all as lucky as I am. Very few can afford to make their worlds quite this comfortable, but they can manage the essentials. It's usually old people like myself, with wives dead, children grown up, the world strange and different, who go off by themselves. If they have a little nest egg, they can get a little asteroid started. The government doesn't charge. Any asteroid you want to settle on, if it's less than five miles in diameter, is yours. Then if they want they can invest in a sub-etheric receiver and keep up with the universe. If not, they can have book films, or can arrange to have news transcripts brought in by the supply ships once a year, or they can just eat, rest, sleep, and wait to die if they'd rather. I wish, sometimes, I'd got to know some of them."
"Why haven't you?"
"Sometimes I've felt willing, but they're not easy people to know. After all, they've come here to be alone, and for that matter, so have I."
"Well, what did you do when the supply ships stopped coming?"
"Nothing at first. I thought surely the government would clean up the situation and I had enough supplies for months. In fact, I could have skimped along for a year, maybe. But then the pirate ships came."
"And you threw in with them?"
The hermit shrugged. His eyebrows drew together in a troubled frown and they finished their meal in silence.
At the end he gathered the can plates and cutlery and placed them in a wall container in the alcove that led to the pantry. Lucky heard a dim grating noise of metal on metal that diminished rapidly.
Hansen said, "The pseudo-grav field doesn't extend to the disposal tube. A puff of air and they sail out to the valley I told you of, even though it's nearly a mile away."
"It seems to me," said Lucky, "that if you'd try a little harder ptaff, you'd get rid of the cans altogether."
"So I would. I think most hermits do that. Maybe they all do. I don't like the idea, though. It's a waste of air, and of metal too. We might reclaim those cans someday. Who knows? Besides even though most of the cans would scatter here and there, I'm sure that some would circle this asteroid like little moons and it's undignified to think of being accompanied on your orbit by your garbage... Care to smoke? No? Mind if I do?"
He lit a cigar and with a contented sigh went on. "The men of the asteroids can't supply tobacco regularly, so this is becoming a rare treat for me."
Lucky said, "Do they furnish you the rest of your supplies?"
"That's right. Water, machine parts and power-pack renewals. It's an arrangement."
"And what do you do for them?"
The hermit studied his cigar's lighted end. "Not much. They use this world. They land their ships on it and I don't report them. They don't come in here and what they do elsewhere on the rock isn't my business. I don't want to know. It's safer that way. Men are left here sometimes, like yourself, and are picked up later. I have an idea they stop for minor repairs sometimes. They bring me supplies in return."
"Do they supply all the hermits?"
"I wouldn't know. Maybe."
"It would take an awful lot of supplies. Where would they get them from?"
"They capture ships."
"Not enough to supply hundreds of hermits and themselves. iSnean, it would take an awful lot of ships."
"I wouldn't know."
"Aren't you interested? It's a soft life you have here, but maybe the food we just ate came off a ship whose crew are frozen corpses circling some other asteroid like human garbage. Do you ever think of that?"
The hermit flushed painfully. "You're getting your revenge for my having preached to you earlier. You're right, but what can I do? I didn't abandon or betray the government. They abandoned and betrayed me. My estate on Earth pays taxes. Why am I not protected then? I registered this asteroid with the Terrestrial Outer World Bureau in good faith. It's part of the Terrestrial dominion. I have every right to expect protection against the pirates. If that's not forthcoming; if my source of supply coolly says that they can bring me nothing more at any price, what am I supposed to do?
"You might say I could have returned to Earth, but how could I abandon all this? I have a world of my own here. My book films, the great classics that I love. I even have a copy of Shakespeare; a direct filming of the actual pages of an ancient printed book. I have food, drink, privacy. I could find nowhere as comfortable as this anywhere else in the Universe.
"Don't think it's been an easy choice, though. I have a sub-etheric transmitter. I could communicate with Earth. I've got a little ship that can make the short haul to Ceres. The men of the asteroids know that, but they trust me. They know I have no choice. As I told you when we first met, I'm an accessory after the fact.
"I've helped them. That makes me legally a pirate. It would be jail, execution, probably, if I return. If not, if they free me provided I turn state's evidence, the men of the asteroids won't forget. They would find me no matter where I went, unless I could be guaranteed complete government protection for life."
"It looks like you're in a bad way," said Lucky.
"Am I?" said the hermit. "I might be able to get that complete protection with the proper help."
It was Lucky's turn. "I wouldn't know," he said.
"I think you would."
I don t get you.
"Look, I'll give you a word of warning in return for help."
"There's nothing Z can do. What's your word?"
"Get off the asteroid before Anton and his men come back."
"Not on your life. I came here to join them, not to go home."
"If you don't leave, you'll stay forever. You'll stay as a dead man. They won't let you on any crew. You won't qualify, mister."
Lucky's face twisted in anger. "What in space are you talking about, old-timer?"
"There it is again. When you get angry, I see it plainly. You're not Bill Williams, son. What's your relationship to Lawrence Starr of the Council of Science? Are you Starr's son?"