"So you're the famous Three Planeteers, eh?” he asked in the same cracked, quavering voice they had previously heard.
The speaker was an old, snow-haired Martian, his thin figure stooped, his red face incredibly wrinkled with age, his faded, rheumy eyes peering at them shortsightedly. He wore two atom-pistols in his belt, and was chewing rial leaf whose green juice he spat occasionally into a floor receptacle.
"Curse me if it doesn't do me good to look at you,” quavered the oldster, his oath making astounding contrast with his cracked voice and senile appearance. “Aye, it warms my heart to look at men the like of which I was myself, in the old days."
"Who are you?” Thorn asked steadily. “How did you happen along to pick us up?"
"As for who I am, the name is Stilicho Keene. Ever hear of it?” the old pirate answered shrilly.
"Stilicho Keene?” repeated Sual Av incredulously. “The notorious pirate of forty years ago?)
"The same,” answered the old Martian complacently. “Aye, long before you Planeteers was ever born, I was one of the leaders of the Companions of Space, back in the days when there were men in space and not the kind of milksops I have to give orders to now."
"You still haven't told us how you happened to be near to pick us up,” Thorn reminded.
Stilicho Keene turned his rheumy eyes on the young earthman. He chuckled as he spat rial juice.
"Sharp and curious, ain't ye? Well, I'd expect it of you. I was the same at your age, smart and quick and bold. But you were asking how we happened along. Well, this is the Venture, and we've been to Jupiter on a little errand for Princess Lana. Coming back, we heard the audio-calls of them cruisers chasing you Planeteers.