Corsairs of the Cosmos

5. The Secret of Callisto

Within the fifteen-foot-thick stone walls of the ancient Martian monastery, the air was purified, thickened, enriched with oxygen, and humidified. A fire roared on the grate of the vast hearth, and warmed the empty room. The greenskinned savant served them fine old wine, curious Drylands fruits, native cheese, and succulent sausage meat.

"You will have a problem, lad, else you would not bother to intrude upon my studies," said Dr. Zoar. Star grinned sheepishly and admitted that this was so. The scientific part of his schooling had been left to the hands of the green dwarf, who possessed an intellect that was among the very finest in the system, and he had a healthy respect for Zoar's mind. He discussed The Blur with the diminutive Martian sage, and the problem of invisibility.

Zoar scowled over the problem, munching his portion of cheese and fruit and meat. Finally, the little Martian shrugged.

"So science has never conquered the problem!" he rasped. "Who cares? Of what possible utility would such a solution be? That is to say, how would the power to become invisible be of any use to men?"

"I don't know," admitted Star with a grin, "but it sure helps The Blur!"

Phath uttered a bark of laughter, almost strangling on a mouthful of sausage. Even Zoar permitted himself a rare grin. Then Star explained.

"If we know how he did it, we'd be a bit closer—perhaps—to learning who he is," said the redhead. Zoar chewed some cheese, ruminating, unable to find a flaw in Star's argument .

"You know what angstroms are?" he demanded suddenly.

"The measure of electromagnetic energy," said the Earthling.

"You know the angstroms which measure the part of the electromagnetic spectrum devoted to visible light?”

"I do," said Star Pirate. Zoar nodded, satisfied, then poured them all another cup of black Martian wine.

"And does your knowledge of the history of recent centuries extend to the principles of radio-jamming? Of broadcasting on the same frequency in order to blanket, to negate, to wipe out, the original broadcast?" inquired the diminutive sage.

The light of cognition illuminated the space-tanned features of the young redhead in the gray zippersuit. He nodded dumbly.

"Excellent!" said Dr. Zoar, reaching for the cold stone bottle of wine. "Do have a drop or two more . . . I am delighted to learn that your, ah, association with our webfooted friend here has not, as I might very well have feared, dimmed your intelligence."

Phath glowered, scowled, but said nothing. For one thing, his mouth was full of sausage and cheese at the moment. For another, there was nothing much to be said. He and Zoar had never been able to agree on anything, except for their mutual devotion to the redheaded youth who was their leader.

"And is there another problem with which I may help, perchance, with my feeble wits?" purred Dr. Zoar. He was feeling fine, having already solved the mystery of The Blur's invisibility—at least to his own satisfaction.

Star Pirate cleared his throat, and mentioned the puzzle of the utter disappearance of the dead-black cruiser, once it was finished robbing a cargo ship off Callisto. According to the magno-detectors of the Callistan Port Authority, the pirate craft had neither landed in the fungus-forests of that jungle moon, nor had it journeyed into deep space. It had simply vanished from human knowledge.

"Nonsense," snapped Zoar, helping himself to another noggin of the excellent wine. "There is an answer to every question, elsewise that question could not be asked. All that is required is the application of human intelligence ... of knowledge . . .ah! Yes; of course; or, at least, perhaps. For I cannot be certain, without investigation. Tell me, boy—what is unique about Callisto, moon of Jupiter?"

Star Pirate wrinkled his brow, frowning in thought.

"Well," he said at length, "for one thing, it's the largest known moon in the System, large enough to be counted as a planet, like Mercury, if it was in free orbit around the Sun and not in a captive orbit about Jupiter."

"True enough," grunted Dr. Zoar. "But what else?"

Star scowled, rubbing his brow. "Well, it has an atmosphere, but, then, so have lo and Ganymede, and—

"No, not that. Think, boy! Think!" rapsed the old Martian savant.

Star racked his brain, somewhat befuddled by the old strong Martian wine, but not to any great degree. Suddenly his brow cleared and he grinned his famous grin, and uttered a brief sentence of seven words, which made Phath blink incredulously, but Zoar grin with delight.

"Ah! Splendid!" crowed the old savant. "It heartens me that your deplorable relationship with this web-footed swamp-lizard has not—as I feared it might do, by now—sapped your Intellectual vigor! Well, my boy, I believe that you are now in possession of all the data you require in order to bring the depredations of this bandit of the spaceways to an end, so I will bid you and your, um, confederate, farewell, and return to my studies ..."

They waded back across the stony plateau, leaning against the bitter wind, masked against the dry air, all the way to where the Jolly Roger awaited their coming. Star Pirate had a pretty fair notion that he now held the keys to this mystery in his hands, but, as for Patth, the milk-pale Venusian was completely in the dark.