“You seem to know a lot about our recent exploits, Mr. Vly,” said Joe, conversationally.
“I’m not the complete recluse people think, Mr. Taylor. People have a lot of wrong ideas about me. I don’t want to be listed in the Register of Peoples, and I don’t want people butting into my business or telling me how to live, but I keep up with the news. If I hadn’t recognized you, you wouldn’t have been allowed to land on my asteroid. You’re not wearing Starman’s red, you know.”
“We’re grateful to you, Mr. Vly,” nodded Zip.
“May I ask—” began Mark, then hesitated.
“Yes, you may ask. Go on.”
Mark turned his head toward the sphere. “The sphere...”
“Oh yes. It’s pure crystal, all right.”
The Starmen gasped. “Pure...crystal...?” stammered Mark. “Why, there can’t be a larger one in the Solar System! It’s priceless!”
“Next largest was in the Smithsonian Institution, a little more than twelve inches in diameter. This one’s sixteen and three-quarters inches. Found it myself on Adamant—that’s the parent asteroid from which this sliver I live on was busted off a few millennia ago.” Mark knew he was referring to what he had called a “worthless chunk” before they landed.
Vly went on. “Shaped it myself in those old machines you saw coming in here. Had to redesign some of ’em to fit a crystal this size, but we did it.”