Star Dragon Box Set One

By Blaze Ward

Gareth St. John Dankworth just wants to be a cop, as a member of Earth Force Sky Patrol. But his destiny will make him a hero, as well as sets him into personal combat with the entire galaxy—even the very gods of the Accord of Souls themselves. 

This box set contains two early Gareth Dankworth pulp episodes originally published elsewhere, plus the first two books of the Star Dragon saga: Birth of the Star Dragon and Flight of the Star Dragon. 

The Star Dragon saga is science fiction written with an 1950s pulp flair and opens new vistas for readers of Blaze Ward. Fantastic, weird worlds, populated by aliens, criminals, and, oh yeah, one human cop.

Be sure to pick up the second ebook box set of the Star Dragon saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Knotted Road Press
• Release date: Mar 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393595236

Blaze Ward

Blaze Ward writes science fiction in the Alexandria Station universe (Jessica Keller, The Science Officer,  The Story Road, etc.) as well as several other science fiction universes, such as Star Dragon, the Dominion, and more. He also writes odd bits of high fantasy with swords and orcs. In addition, he is the Editor and Publisher of Boundary Shock Quarterly Magazine. You can find out more at his website www.blazeward.com, as well as Facebook, Goodreads, and other places. Blaze's works are available as ebooks, paper, and audio, and can be found at a variety of online vendors. His newsletter comes out regularly, and you can also follow his blog on his website. He really enjoys interacting with fans, and looks forward to any and all questions—even ones about his books!

Book preview

"Commander, I’m receiving an emergency distress signal."

Gareth set down the history book he had been reading and sprang into action, pausing only to stuff his feet into his tall, black leather, Sky Patrol boots and check his maroon tunic and blond hair in the mirror. The SP logo on the front still made him proud, every time he gazed upon it.

On my way, Radioman Ferrie, he pushed a button and called back. Roust the Chief and have him bring the reactor to full power.

Aye aye, sir, the man replied.

For luck, Gareth placed a hand on the wall-painted logo of his ship, the Patrol Cutter Bellerophon, as he exited his cabin into the hallway. It was his first command and he was responsible for the lives of eleven other men, and whoever else needed his help.

He was Sky Patrol.

The bridge on the space cutter was cramped, with walls needing a fresh coat of white paint and gray carpet that should probably be replaced in another few patrols, but this was a working ship, not a pleasure yacht. Stuff happened.

Outside the big window that stretched across the front of the bridge, the black depths of space waited, speckled with thousands and thousands of stars in the firmament of heaven. Gareth recognized Spacer First Class Atkins at the strip’s wheel by the man’s solid maroon neckerchief and broad shoulders. It took a lot of muscle to spin the ship’s helm-wheel while simultaneously pulling and turning it, but Tom Atkins was the man for the job.

Omar Ferrie was hunched over his radio gear, alternatively spinning knobs and plotting things on the tabletop with an electronic compass as he worked his tech magic. His gray kepi cap was pushed way back on his head as he scratched the side of his temple in apparent frustration.

Have we got a vector, mister? Gareth asked, coming up behind the radioman and putting a companionable hand on his shoulder.

Almost, sir, he said. It’s down in the asteroid zone, but I’m picking up a lot of interference.

Well, then, Omar, Gareth laughed, turning to Atkins. Let’s get you a better view. All ahead full, pilot. Since the radioman said down in the rocks, bring us to starboard and nose her over. Pass us under 624 Hektor for now, but be on the lookout for smaller rocks that might do us harm.

Aye, aye, sir, Atkin called, louder than necessary, but better that everyone hear than somebody miss. Starboard dive at full speed, navigating off asteroid 624 Hektor.

The ship seemed to leap like a greyhound, quivering with the pent-up power of the latest atomic pile reactor and the Choueiri Arcjet Ionic Drive. Gareth placed a firm hand on Ferrie’s seat as the ship came about, like a clipper turning into the wind of a hard storm back on Earth.

Gareth reached out a strong hand and flipped a radio button on the overhead console to open the public address system.

Medbay, this is Dankworth, he called. We’re responding to a distress signal. Make sure your little, black bag is ready to go.

We’ll be prepared, commander, Bennie Vitro replied. The man was only a Spacer Third Class, but he knew his way around, from setting broken bones after bar fights to curing the worst hangovers. Gareth was glad to have the man with him.

Mayday. Emergency. Somebody, please help us! a voice came from the speakers suddenly.

By the Gods of Vashal, Gareth reacted. That’s a woman. Why didn’t you say something, Ferrie?

Sorry, sir, the man hunched in on himself. The first signal was their automated beacon. That’s the first time I’ve managed to get a voice.

Tell me you’ve got a line, Gareth raged in helpless futility.

Almost, Ferrie muttered. Almost. There. Got it.

Quickly, the man scribbled a set of coordinates on a notepad, tore it off, and handed it to Gareth.

Pilot, Gareth stepped close to Atkins. Come left two, up one, and prepare to reverse thrusters full on my command.

Aye, aye, commander, Atkins said. Left two, up one, full stop on your command.

Execute, pilot, Gareth ordered, making sure he was braced hard with a hand on the bulkhead.

Bellerophon groaned with the strain of the engines suddenly backing as hard as they could. The little patrol cutter wouldn’t stop on a dime, not as this speed, but she was really giving it her all.

Radioman, where are they? Gareth yelled over the roaring engines.

There, sir, Ferrie stood and pointed out the window.

Gareth followed the hand and saw it. A ship, landed or crashed on the surface of a large asteroid, almost a moon in its own right, lacking only a planet to orbit.

The ship was larger than Patrol Cutter Bellerophon, but without all the sleek speed and grace of the Sky Patrol vessel. No, it was a boxy-looking thing, an awkward duck meant to trundle along the space lanes with a heavy load. It rested on the gray surface of the little moon like a fly waiting to be swatted. Perhaps it already had. There had been an emergency distress beacon.

Gareth opened a radio.

Distressed vessel, this is Sky Patrol Deputy Agent Gareth St. John Dankworth, aboard the Patrol Cutter Bellerophon, he said calmly, not wanting to scare the poor girl any more out of her wits than she already was. What is your emergency?

Oh, thank all the gods, she replied. There’s been a landslide. My father’s trapped under the rockfall and the ship has been damaged. Please hurry!

The Sky Patrol is on its way, miss, he replied firmly, cutting the line.

Atkins, take us in, Gareth ordered, reaching to flip the PA system live. Put us down close, but not too close. Duewall, Vitro, Hlavka, get suited up to join me on the surface. Chief, you’re in charge until I get back.

A chorus of assents echoed through the narrow confines of the ship.

Gareth turned and raced aft to the airlock. There, he found three men, already locking their fishbowl helmets into place to leave the vessel: Spacer First Class Eddy Duewall; Spacer Second Class ‘Doc’ Vitro; and Landsman Matt Hlavka, a new rookie with a promising career ahead of him.

Unlike an officer of Sky Patrol, these men wore short boots in black leather, laced up the front. Gray pants flared outward a little at the knee like a bell covering their feet. Their collarless, pullover tunics in maroon at least matched his for color, and they had left their kepis with the ship, the short brim of the cap even then too much for their fishbowls. Each man wore his rank on his neckerchief: Duewall’s solid red; Vitro’s solid white, and Hvalka’s solid black; so Gareth could at least tell them apart from behind.

All uniforms being ready to transform to surface suits, Gareth was immediately ready as he reached for a helmet to don. Tall, black leather boots, polished to a shine. White pants tucked into the boots, cut in a style he had heard more than one female refer to as hotpants. Across his broad shoulders, the standing-collar, maroon tunic of the Sky Patrol, with the black and gold SP logo on the bib front between the gold buttons, wrapped in the single, white ring of an Deputy Agent. At his waist, a black, leather, Sam Brown belt, with the SP logo worked into the buckle.

Because they were leaving the ship, Gareth opened the arms locker and added a holster and a Ionic Stunner pistol to his gear after his helmet clicked into place. The Sonic Stunner version of the pistol was as much the symbol of Sky Patrol as his badge, but it only worked in an atmosphere. Gareth turned once to make sure all his men were ready, getting firm nods in reply.

Bellerophon, this is Dankworth, he said over the radio. We’re all set here. Go ahead and activate the airlock.

Behind them, a bank vault door swung shut with a loud beeping before it clanged into place and a wheel spun to set the bolts. Air hissed out of the room around them, until Gareth felt his uniform tighten just a little. A light began to blink, and the outer airlock door swung in.

Gareth took the lead, loping across the gap between the ships, careful not to jump too hard in the light gravity.

Sir!?! a voice came over the comm.

Gareth paused and looked back

Landsman Hlavka had jumped too high, confused by being on the surface of a sphere and thinking they were under a higher gravity. He was perilously close to floating off into space.

Gareth thought quickly. It would take too long to send the ship after him, and time was critical, so Gareth gauged the distance carefully and leapt, aiming to pass beneath the man.

Steady, Hlavka, Gareth ordered, flying towards him. I’ve got you.

Rather than risk a collision, Gareth grabbed an ankle as he went by, tugging hard. Unlike the Landsman, the Deputy Agent had plenty of experience with low-gravity situations. Their combined mass slowed him down and pulled them to the surface, where the rookie landed hard, and Dankworth came down in a classic three-point stance.

Oh, thank you, commander, Hlavka cried.

Just pay attention, Landsman, Gareth replied breezily, clapping the man on the shoulder. We’ll make a sailor out of you yet.

Gareth turned to assess the situation. The other two men had made it to the ship and were waiting for him. With the rookie in tow, Gareth joined them.

Before he could trigger the radio, the door to the bulky freighter’s airlock swung inward, revealing a young woman in a clingy spacesuit.

Gareth tried not to react, but seeing a woman in pants instead of a skirt was a touch unnerving, even as he understood the necessity of it. Still, it was awkward, being able to trace the line of those firm thighs up to a petite bottom and a narrow waist.

He tried to focus on her face, but that promised almost as much trouble.

She was gorgeous.

Young. Maybe only twenty years old, although it was hard to tell.

Black hair in short ringlets framed a heart-shaped face that might have been cast in porcelain. Bright blue eyes and dark red lips. Gareth was glad they both wore helmets, so he wasn’t tempted to simply kiss her.

I’m Deputy Agent Gareth St. John Dankworth, of the Earth Force Sky Patrol, he announced over the radio. How can we help?

My name is Paulette, she replied in an emotional voice that Gareth couldn’t help but compare to a morning songbird. Paulette MacCormaic. My father is trapped and the ship is stuck. You must help us.

That’s why we’re here, ma’am, he said. Show us where your father is.

This way, she began to walk around the bow of the ugly ship, Gareth and the others in her wake.

On the internal radio, Gareth heard a low wolf whistle. He stopped and turned to his men with a thunderous scowl.

Sorry, sir, Eddie Duewall replied sheepishly. Won’t happen again.

If it does, you’re going on report, Spacer, Gareth warned him.

Authority and probity re-established, Gareth turned again and walked after the young lady. It was difficult to concentrate, as he kept being mesmerized by the shapely bottom in those clinging pants. He wanted to wolf whistle as well, but kept it to himself.

One of these days, he would be promoted to Field Agent, and he could finally ask Philippa to marry him, back on Earth. They had both worked so hard to keep themselves pure. Surely, it wouldn’t be too long before his Earth Force commanders recognized all his hard work and promoted him.

Until then, he tried to swallow past a dry throat with a lump in it as the beautiful, young woman sashayed ahead of him.

There he is, she stopped suddenly and pointed.

Gareth moved forward far enough that he could concentrate on something other than the beautiful woman plaguing him with awkward, lustful thoughts.

Sure enough, a rockslide had ripped past the area, moving right to left. Part of it was pressed firmly against the side of the young woman’s ship. Over across the debris field, he could see a man, flat on the ground and half-covered with rocks and scree.

With me, men, Gareth ordered.

Rather than risk the unsteady surface, he took two steps and leapt far and flat across the surface of the asteroid, almost flying as his powerful thighs drove him like a diver off a cliff face.

He landed perfectly, just a few feet from the trapped man, and turned towards him.

Through the man’s clear helmet, it was obvious he was the father of the beautiful woman waiting safely for them to return. The same black hair, much of it gray now. The same bones in the face framing intense, cerulean eyes.

Thank God you’ve come, the man said.

What happened? Gareth asked.

Close by, his men were just now stumbling their way towards them across the rocks.

My name is Doctor Ewan MacCormaic. I was looking for a good spot to set up my new mining invention, the man said, obviously in some pain from the tone of his voice. Something happened and the slope of the hill suddenly gave way. I’m not hurt, as near as I can tell, but my right foot is trapped by something under the gravel and I can’t move.

Very good, sir, Gareth said firmly. Sky Patrol’s here now. We’ll take care of it.

He looked around, spotting what he needed leaned up against the side of the man’s ship.

Duewall, grab that shovel, he ordered. Hlavka, help me dig. Doc, you get ready in case we need to treat an injury when we get him out.

Gareth plunged his hand into the loose stone and swept a handful to one side with his mighty muscles. The Landsman did the same, but lacked the strength to move much at a time. Instead, the younger man put his head down and concentrated.

Quickly, the small rocks were cleared, and Gareth began encountering larger rocks, almost like dragon eggs from some fantasy novel. Even in low gravity, they were heavy, but Gareth was equal to the challenge, grabbing a large one in both hands and staggering to his feet. He shot-put the rock safely off to one side as the other two men kept at it.

Within minutes, they had the older man dug out from the rubble, but he had been right. A huge rock had come down. Had it landed a little to the left, it probably would have crushed the man’s leg, possibly severing it until he bled out, trapped in vacuum, but for now, it was better than a manacle for keeping him in place.

A shovel’s not going to be any good against that, Gareth said aloud, looking at the trapped man. Even in this gravity. What kind of mining invention were you going to test? Anything we could use?

If it was assembled, yes, the man said sadly. But we had just landed, and the device is still in pieces in the hold of the ship.

Too bad, Gareth said. What was it?

A short-range, optical laser, Doctor MacCormaic said. You put it up against your cutting face and turn it on. It combines a mass spectrometer with a short beam focus, so you can tell what rocks you are vaporizing as it cuts cone-shaped plugs from the stone, letting you track a seam of valuable materials more closely.

That would be very useful, sir, Gareth said. And it gives me an idea. Landsman Hlavka, you got back to the ship and get my Lasrifle from my cabin. We’ll have to cut him loose.

Me, sir? the man was nervous.

We’re in a hurry here, Hlavka, Gareth reassured him. Everyone will swear that I did it, so you won’t have to fill out any paperwork for being in possession of a lethal weapon.

Oh, the spacer said, relieved. Thank you, sir.

With that, he was off, stumbling carefully across the rough surface of the moon, back to Bellerophon.

Thank you for saving my father.

The girl was suddenly right there, standing so close Gareth swore he could smell her perfume, even through two space suits and stellar vacuum.

Gareth rose.

Not yet, miss, he said. But we’ll be there shortly. He’ll be safe with us.

He wanted to take her in his arms and press her against his chest. Taste those lips. Ruffle that onyx-black hair with his fingers.

From the look in her eyes, the same improper thoughts appeared to race through her mind as well.

Gareth concentrated on the man trapped by the rockfall.

A laser is a very dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, sir, Gareth said, squatting down to get the girl out of his line of sight.

I’m aware of that, young man, the doctor replied primly. But I’m a researcher with Yamazaki Heavy Industries. Part of the Technology Division of your Earth Force Sky Patrol. Most asteroids are just nickel and iron. It’s not worth even trying to grind them up wholesale. I’m trying to invent a device that a single man can use when he lands on a larger rock, or a moon, and just go after the exotic materials. The platinum group, for instance, or the so-called Rare Earths that we need to maintain a technological society. Earth is running out of such materials, trying to colonize the entire solar system, so something must be done.

Well if you’re with Yamazaki, you’ve got the kind of brains the job will need, sir, Gareth said, spying Hlavka returning, holding the Lasrifle like it was a bomb in his hands.

Gareth stood and took the weapon.

Good work, sailor, he said, checking the settings.

The rock trapping the boffin’s leg was nearly a foot thick at the narrowest part. He would have to be careful when making his cut, not to release the entire mass in such a way that he shifted the stone and dropped it on the man.

And the Lasrifle was a dangerous weapon. As an officer with Sky Patrol, Gareth was the only one here certified to handle it in the field. Everyone else could make do with their Stunners. After all, it wasn’t like the Dark Ages of early space flight, where all the nations of the world had maintained armies and threatened each other with deadly force.

Today, everyone had to work together for the good of mankind, whether it was in the Balloon Cities of Venus, the Hives of UnderMars, or the Gas Miners of Jupiter and Saturn, to say nothing of the Comet Wildcatters, seeking their fortunes in deep-system water mines. No, Earth Force Sky Patrol kept the peace these days, and did it with authority and justice, rather than force. It made the Solar System a better place.

Gareth opened the butt of his Lasrifle to reveal the controls and made some adjustments. Cutting heat was more important than range or pulsing damage at a target.

Everybody stand back a safe distance, he ordered brusquely, taking aim with the chrome and wood weapon.

He steadied himself with a deep breath and pulled the trigger. A beam of ruby light flashed out and struck the stone, above and to the right of the trapped scientist. Rock flashed red hot and then puffed to smoke as it vaporized under the terrible, destructive eye of that beam, a modern Balor striking down the De Daanan sailors below.

Down and in a little for the next few shots, a slow-motion woodpecker digging in a petrified tree for lunch. It felt good.

Suddenly, the rock cracked. The mass began to shift forward, intent on crushing the scientist.

Gareth dropped the Lasrifle and sprang forward, driving his strength into the stone and lifting with all his immense might.

You men, grab the doctor and pull him out, Gareth ordered loudly. Do it now.

He couldn’t hold the mass back for long, but enough of the stone should be cut away for them to break the rest.

Feet appeared at the edge of his vision, but Gareth was entirely focused on the stone, holding it back like a tide trying to come in. He didn’t need long, but he absolutely had to keep it back.

Ugh, he’s stuck, someone yelled.

Pull harder, Gareth replied. You’ve only got seconds.

Under him, he could feel the angry weight try to elude his will. To complete its slide and take the life of the inventor.

He would not allow it!

Got it, Duewall said suddenly. Sir, he’s clear.

Everybody, back safely away. Immediately, Gareth ordered.

He would only get one chance to do this, and needed a clear field. He glanced right, left.

Open space, with his three men over by the ship, two of them holding the man up while the medic inspected the trapped leg. Beautiful Paulette waited close by, hands clenching and unclenching.

Gareth took a deep breath, shifted his feet as much as he could, and leapt as hard as he could, up and backwards, using all the powerful muscles in his well-trained body.

Success.

He flew clear as the rest of the avalanche snapped greedily at his toes, but he was away.

Maneuvering, Gareth landed lightly atop the hull of the MacCormaic freighter, holding on to a radio post to keep his balance.

You did it! Paulette cried as he leapt lightly down to land beside her.

The young woman threw herself into his arms, pressing her entire body as flat as possible against his chest in ways that made Gareth uncomfortable.

How can I ever thank you? she asked, looking up at him.

But for helmets in the way, he would have considered stealing a kiss and then putting himself on report. Fortunately, technology saved him.

All in the line of duty, miss, he replied, untangling himself, as detestable as he found the notion, and stepping back so he could inspect her father.

Images of Philippa Loughty haunted him as he did so, his Little Lady of the Lake, waiting oh-so-patiently for him to return to her, but he crushed those desires, all the wistful dreams, beneath his duty.

My hero, Paulette swooned.

Her voice didn’t help his calm.

Doc, how is he? Gareth asked, focusing himself on duty, and nothing else. Desires could wait.

Bruised and banged up, Spacer Third Class Medic Vitro replied. But nothing is broken. I recommend rest for a few days.

And the ship? Gareth asked.

The ship is fine, Doctor MacCormaic replied. Paulette doesn’t know how to pilot it, but I can back it out of the slide with no problems.

Well, of course. Who would train a woman to fly a spaceship? They were far to dainty and demure for that sort of rugged existence. Leave that to menfolk.

In that case, our work is done here, Gareth announced, bowing to the two civilians. Doctor, Miss, we’ll be on our way.

Thank you so much for saving us, Paulette crooned heartfully, almost taking a bite out of Gareth’s soul. Will we ever see you again?

We’re the Earth Force Sky Patrol, miss, Gareth said, fists on hips and head thrown proudly back. We’ll always be there when you need help.

My hero, she said.

Well, yes, he said awkwardly. Back to the ship, men. There are patrol rounds to finish.

The men fell in, happily repeating the story. It would look good on his report. Hopefully, another gold star that would get him promoted from Deputy to Auxiliary Agent.

But first, he really needed a cold shower.

Tin Can Pirates

An Earth Force Sky Patrol File: Solar Year 2383

Mayday, mayday, a ragged, tired voice emerged from the speakers on the bridge of Patrol Cutter Bellerophon. Please respond. Life support is giving out and I don’t have much time left.

Track that signal, radioman, Gareth St. John Dankworth barked the order at his bridge crew. As an Auxiliary Agent of Earth Force Sky Patrol, he was the only commissioned officer aboard, the rest being enlisted men. He was responsible for all of their lives.

Gareth stood up from his station on the compact bridge and keyed the overhead address system.

All hands, stand by for maximum maneuvering, Gareth ordered. Chief, bring the reactor to full power and be prepared to push it hard.

Aye aye, sir, the call came back.

Mayday repeating, that lonely voice called again. Please respond. Warning. My claim was hit by pirates. Protect yourselves…

Gareth lurked over the radioman, watching the man furiously spinning knobs and watching gauges.

What happened, Ferrie? Gareth demanded.

Lost his signal, sir, the Spacer Two replied. Got a partial vector, but it’s like he just stopped transmitting.

Give me the new course, Gareth said, keying the ship-wide again. All hands, brace for acceleration.

Ferrie tore off a piece of paper from his pad and handed it to Gareth. As commander of Patrol Cutter Bellerophon, Gareth took two steps to the big man standing at the ship’s wheel. You had to have muscles to spin the wheel while simultaneously pulling and turning it on the post. Tom Atkins was always equal to the job, nearly as big and strong as Gareth.

Come about Atkins. Gareth read the numbers. New heading right three points, up five. Lock that in and pour on the juice.

Right three up five, Atkins echoed. Stand by. Ready for acceleration.

Hit it, mister, Gareth said.

Aft, the full power of the Choueiri Arcjet Ionic Drive lit, a blue-white, electrical fire driving the sleek greyhound of Sky Patrol across the dark depths of the asteroid belt.

Radioman, Gareth called without looking at Ferrie. Keep your eye on your scanners. There will be rocks ahead of us.

Commander? Chief Edevane called from the reactor room. At this speed, should we spin the shields forward instead?

Good idea, Chief, Gareth replied. Bring them to zero, zero, zero.

Coming up, Gareth, the Chief said.

The Star Shields. A five-yard thick concrete barrier you kept between you and the Sun at all times, just to reduce the solar radiation the ship absorbed. They had solar panels on them to supplement the reactor, and the ship was still exposed to the cosmic background radiation, but every little bit helped.

At this speed, having a concrete shield in front might protect them from ramming a small asteroid at speeds too great to maneuver safely.

As the Star Shield came around, the big picture window across the bridge was occulted. Atkins and Ferrie would be flying on instruments and scanners, rather than good, old-fashioned eyeballs, but Gareth couldn’t imagine two men better for the task.

Commander, I’ve got a new signal, Ferrie said. Two of them, as a matter of fact. One stable on the surface of that asteroid there. The other seems to be receding.

Receding? Why would it be receding? Of course, his ship had gotten here before the pirates could flee.

But those folks were running now. Just as the Law was arriving, like in any good western vid.

Gareth ground his teeth, but he really had no choice now but to let them go.

Ferrie, lock everything you have on the second signal and track them as long and far as you can, Gareth ordered. All hands, prepare for full reverse acceleration. Atkins, bring us to rest with the asteroid and land us as close as you can to the signal.

Bellerophon had a gun on the bow. She was a patrol cutter, after all. But Gareth’s duty was to rescue the vessel’s crew, assuming they could. Only after that, or if the man was dead when they arrived, could the posse set off in pursuit.

Simple orbital geometry and physics worked against him now. They were going faster than the supposed pirate, and could run him down if they turned. But every minute might be one too long for a man injured and perhaps dying down there.

Justice never slept, however. Earth Force Sky Patrol would never rest. Right now, he was just spotting the pirates a head start, that was all.

The second signal receded as the ship slowly settled on the surface, but remained on Ferrie’s screen.

You can run from me. You cannot hide.

Duewall, Vitro, Hlavka, get suited up to join me on the surface. Chief, you’ll be in charge until I get back, Gareth ordered, moving aft to the main airlock.

The three men were his usual team for missions on the ground, so they had anticipated him. All were already in their fishbowl helmets in the airlock when he arrived.

Unlike an officer of Sky Patrol, in his tall boots, white hotpants, and maroon tunic, these men wore short boots in black leather, laced up the front. Gray pants flared outward a little at the knee like mushrooms covering their feet. Their collarless, pullover tunics in maroon at least matched his for color, and they had left their kepis with the ship, the short brim of the cap even then too much for their fishbowls. Each man wore his rank on his neckerchief: Duewall’s solid red; Vitro’s solid white, and Hvalka’s solid black; so Gareth could at least tell them apart from behind.

Gareth had stopped by his cabin and grabbed the Lasrifle from that locker as he headed aft. Better to be overarmed than under. Once he got to the airlock, he used his thumbprint to open the arms locker and hand each man an Ionic Stunner and a stick-on holder for their thighs.

He locked the fishbowl over his head and opened the radio.

Bellerophon, this is Dankworth, he said loudly. We’re all set here. Go ahead and activate the airlock.

Behind them, a bank vault door swung shut with a loud beeping before it clanged into place and a wheel spun to set the bolts. Air hissed out of the room around them, until Gareth felt his uniform tighten just a little. A light began to blink, and the outer airlock door swung in.

Asteroid mining was frequently a lonely, obsessive task. Most of the true rocks were almost completely nickel and iron. Huge mega-conglomerates could grab those with robot ships and feed