"We've slept while they've built," said Lucky.
"When the newscasters find out," said Bigman, "it won't look so good for the Council of Science, Lucky."
"Unless we break this thing, it won't. And the Council doesn't deserve better. Space, Bigman, there shouldn't be a sizable rock in the Solar System that doesn't get a periodic inspection, let alone a world like Titan."
"Who would have thought… "
"The Council of Science should have thought. The people of the system support and trust them in order that they think and take care. And I should have thought too."
The voice of the robot broke in upon them. "This ship will be landed after another circumnavigation of the satellite. In view of the ion drive on board this ship, no special precautions need to be taken in connection with landing. Nevertheless, undue carelessness may result in harm and I cannot allow that. I must therefore request you to lie down and strap yourselves in."
Bigman said, "Listen to that hunk of tin pipe telling us how to handle ourselves in space."
"Just the same," said Lucky, "you'd better lie down.
He's likely to force us down if we don't. It's his job not to allow harm to come to us."
Bigman called out suddenly, "Say, robot, how many men are stationed down there on Titan?"
There was no answer.
Ground came up and up and swallowed them, tunneling them downward. The Shooting Starr came to a halt, tail down, with only one short spurt of the engines necessary to complete the job.
The robot turned away from the controls. "You have been brought safely and without harm to Titan. My immediate task is done and I will now turn you over to the masters."
"To Sten Devoure?"
"That is one of the masters. You may step out of the ship freely. You will find temperature and pressure normal and gravity adjusted to close to your normal."
"May we step out now?" asked Lucky.
"Yes. The masters are waiting."
Lucky nodded. Somehow he could not quite suppress the beginning of an odd excitement. Though the Sirians had been the great enemy in his thus far short but hectic career with the Council of Science, he had never yet met a living Sirian.
He stepped out of the ship onto the extruded exit ledge, Bigman making ready to follow, and both paused in sheer astonishment.
9. The Enemy
Lucky had his foot upon the first rung of the ladder that would carry them to ground level. Bigman peered over his large friend's shoulder. Both were open-mouthed.
It was as though they were stepping out upon the surface of the Earth. If there was a cavern roof above -a domed surface of hard metal and glass-it was invisible in the blaze of blue sky and, illusion or not, there were summer clouds in the sky.
Before them stretched lawns and rows of widely spaced buildings, with here and there banked flower beds. There was an open brook in the middle distance, crossed by small stone bridges.
Robots by the dozens were hurrying, each on his own way, each on his own business, with machinelike concentration. Several hundred yards off, five beings- Sirians!-stood in a cluster and watched curiously.
A voice broke in sharply and peremptorily on Lucky and Bigman. "You up there. Come down. Come down, I say. No dawdling."
Lucky looked down. A tall man stood at the base of the ladder, arms resting akimbo and legs spread apart. His narrow olive-complexioned face looked up at them arrogantly. His dark hair was cropped into a mere fuzz in the Sirian fashion. In addition, his face bore a trim and well-kept beard and a thin mustache. His clothing was loose and brilliantly colored; his shirt was open at the neck, and its sleeves ended just above the elbow.
Lucky called, "If you're in a hurry, sir, certainly."
He swung about and dropped down the ladder, hands only, his lithe body twisting with effortless grace. He pushed himself away from the hull and dropped the final twelve rungs, twisting as he did so to land face to face with the man on the ground. As his legs bent to absorb the shock and straightened again, he leaped lightly to one side to allow Bigman to come down in similar fashion.
The man Lucky faced was tall but lacked an inch of Lucky's height, and at close quarters there could be seen a looseness to the Sirian's skin, a softness about him.
He scowled and his upper lip lifted in a grimace of contempt. "Acrobats! Monkeys!"
"Neither, sir," said Lucky with quiet good humor. "Earthmen."
The other said, "You are David Starr, but you are called Lucky. Does that mean in the Earthman lingo what it means in our language?"
"It means 'fortunate.'"
"You are not fortunate any longer, apparently. I am Sten Devoure."
"I had assumed that."
"You seemed surprised at all this, eh?" Devoure's bare arm swung out across the landscaped grounds. "It is beautiful."
"It is, but isn't it an unnecessary waste of energy?"
"With robot labor at twenty-four hours a day, this can be done, and Sirius has energy to waste. Your Earth hasn't, I think."
"We have what is necessary, you'll find," said Lucky.
"Will I? Come, I will speak with you in my quarters." He waved peremptorily at the five other Sirians who had edged closer in the meantime, staring at the Earthman; the Earthman who had been such a successful enemy of Sirius in recent years and who had now been caught at last
The Sirians saluted at Devoure's gesture, however, and without delay turned on their heels and went their separate ways.
Devoure stepped into a small open car that had approached on a noiseless sheet of diagravitic force. Its flat undersurface, without wheels or other material device, remained six niches above the ground. Another car moved up toward Lucky. Each was handled, of course, by a robot.
Lucky entered the second car. Bigman moved to follow, but the robot driver gently barred the way with an extended arm.
"Hey… " began Bigman.
Lucky interrupted, "My friend is coming with me,
sir."
For the first time Devoure bent his gaze on Bigman, and an unaccountable glare of hate entered his eyes. He said, "I will not concern myself with that thing. If you wish its company, you may have it for a while, but / do not wish to be troubled with it"
Bigman stared, white-faced, at the Sirian. "You'll be troubled with me right now, you cob… "
But Lucky seized him and whispered earnestly in his ear. "You can't do anything now, Bigman. Great Galaxy, boy, let it go for now and let things work out."
Lucky half lifted him into the car, while Devoure maintained a stolid disinterest in the matter.
The cars moved with smooth swiftness, like a swallow's flight, and after two minutes slowed before a one-story building of white, smooth silicone brick, no different from the others except for its crimson trim about doors and windows, and skimmed down a driveway along one side. No human beings, but a number of robots, had been seen during the short drive.
Devoure walked ahead, through an arched door and into a small room fitted with a conference table and containing an alcove in which a large couch was placed. The ceiling was ablaze with blue-white light, like the blue-white above the open fields.
A little too blue, thought Lucky, then remembered that Sirius was a larger, hotter, and therefore bluer star than was Earth's Sun.
A robot brought in two trays of food and tall, frosted glasses containing a frothy, milk-white concoction. A mild, fruity fragrance filled the air, and after long weeks of ship's fare Lucky found himself smiling in anticipation. A tray was placed before him, another before Devoure.