He stood up. There was almost the illusion of a planetary surface about the rock. The nearest jags of matter, however, had nothing behind them, nothing but space. The stars, moving visibly as the rock turned, were hard, bright glitters. The ship, which had been put into an orbit about the rock, remained motionless overhead.
A pirate led the way, some fifty feet, to a rise in rock in no way distinguished from its surroundings. He made it in two long steps. As they waited a section of the rise slipped aside, and from the opening a space-suited figure stepped out.
"Okay, Herm," said one of the pirates, gruffly, "here he is. He's in your care now."
The voice that next sounded in Lucky's receiver was gentle and rather weary. "How long will he be with me, gentlemen?"
"Till we come to get him. And don't ask questions."
The pirates turned away and leaped upward. The rock's gravity could do nothing to stop them. They dwindled steadily and after a few minutes, Lucky saw a brief flash of crystals as one of them corrected his direction of travel by means of a push-gun; a small one, routinely used for such purposes, that was part of standard suit equipment. Its gas supply consisted of a built-in carbon dioxide cartridge.
Minutes passed and the ship's rear jets gleamed redly. It, too, began dwindling.
It was useless to try to check the direction in which it was leaving, Lucky knew, without some knowledge of his own location in space. And of that, except that he was somewhere in the asteroid belt, he knew nothing.
So intense was his absorption that he was almost startled at the soft voice of the other man on the asteroid.
He said, "It is beautiful out here. I come out so rarely that sometimes I forget. Look there!"
Lucky turned to his left. The small Sun was just poking above the sharp edge of the asteroid. In a moment it was too bright to look at. It was a gleaming twenty-credit gold piece. The sky, black before, remained black, and the stars shone undiminished. That was the way on an airless world where there was no dust to scatter sunlight and turn the heavens a deep, masking blue.
The man of the asteroid said, "In twenty-five minutes or so it will be setting again. Sometimes, when Jupiter is at its closest, you can see it, too, like a little marble, with its four satellites like sparks lined up in military formation. But that only happens every three and a half years. This isn't the time."
Lucky said bluntly, "Those men called you Herm. Is that your name? Are you one of them?"
"You mean am I a pirate? No. But I'll admit I may be an accessory after the fact. Nor is my name Herm. That's just a term they use for hermits in general. My name, sir, is Joseph Patrick Hansen, and since we are to be companions at close quarters for an indefinite period, I hope we shall be friends."
He held out a metal-sheathed hand, and Lucky grasped it.
"I'm Bill Williams," he said. "You say you're a hermit? Do you mean by that that you live here all the time?"
"That's right."
Lucky looked about the poor splinter of granite and silica and frowned. "It doesn't look very inviting."
"Nevertheless I'll try to do my best to make you comfortable."
The hermit touched a section of the slab of rock out of which he had come and a piece of it wheeled open once again. Lucky noted that the edges had been beveled and lined with lastium or some similar material to insure air tightness.
"Won't you step inside, Mr. Williams?" invited the hermit.
Lucky did so. The rock slab closed behind them. As it closed, a small Fluoro lit up and shone away the obscurity. It revealed a small air-lock, not much larger than was required to hold two men.
A small red signal light flickered, and the hermit said, "You can open your face-plate now. We've got air." He did so himself as he spoke.
Lucky followed suit, dragging in lungfuls of clear, fresh air. Not bad. Better than the air on shipboard. Definitely.
But it was when the inner door of the air-lock opened that the wind went out of Lucky in one big gasp.
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?"