“Vigilant Warrior calling Z25. We have arrived in your area and seek permission to land.”
“You made good time, friends,” came a voice instantly. “Come on in and welcome.”
The Starmen had spoken to St. George once during their journey from Montezuma’s Castle, but only briefly. The communications were encrypted, but even the encryption could be a tipoff to an enemy who might be listening in.
As they made their final approach, the Starmen had a good view of Z25’s horizon near the time of local sunset. The surface was dark because of the oblique illumination, but several boulders caught the sunlight and appeared as bright sentinels on the landscape. The brightest of the boulders, just to the upper right of a deeply shadowed crater in the foreground, marked the landing area. A cluster of artificial structures was visible nearby, and several spaceships were parked in an informal array. A dome covered the buildings, and reflected the sun in a burst of brightness. Mark had a quick memory of dewdrops in the garden of his home on Earth when he was a child. He recalled thinking that each dewdrop held a small sun.
In moments the Starmen were sitting in George St. George’s study. He was a man in his middle-fifties, of average height and weight, with a full head of wavy blond hair. It was obvious that he cut his own hair, but long practice had made him skilled at it. Though his eyes were ice-blue, he exuded warmth. He had a ready smile. The Starmen were sitting in a makeshift room under a temporary atmosphere dome on an isolated asteroid, but St. George’s courtliness and genuine respect for his visitors made them feel as if they were in a manor house. On his desk lay a thick book with the title Commentary on the Letter to the Romans, and several sheets of paper and a pen were set beside it where he had obviously been doing some study.
“I hope you men won’t mind waiting for refreshments. It’s almost dinnertime and the crew will be coming up for a meal in about half an hour. Of course, you’ll join us, won’t you?”
“Thank you Mr. St. George,” responded Zip. “We’d be pleased to meet your men and see your operation.”
“Monty tells me you three are real ripstavers, and he doesn’t say that very often about anybody. You must have impressed him!” St. George was full of smiles.
“May we sit down, Mr. St. George? Our business is rather urgent!” Zip continued.
“Of course, of course. Please forgive me! We don’t get visitors of any kind out here and I’m just not used to entertaining. Please forgive me!” St. George rushed busily setting out chairs, bringing in two from a room next door. “And please call me George.”