Zoar scowled over the problem, munching his portion of cheese and fruit and meat. Finally, the little Martian shrugged.
"So science has never conquered the problem!" he rasped. "Who cares? Of what possible utility would such a solution be? That is to say, how would the power to become invisible be of any use to men?"
"I don't know," admitted Star with a grin, "but it sure helps The Blur!"
Phath uttered a bark of laughter, almost strangling on a mouthful of sausage. Even Zoar permitted himself a rare grin. Then Star explained.
"If we know how he did it, we'd be a bit closer—perhaps—to learning who he is," said the redhead. Zoar chewed some cheese, ruminating, unable to find a flaw in Star's argument .
"You know what angstroms are?" he demanded suddenly.
"The measure of electromagnetic energy," said the Earthling.
"You know the angstroms which measure the part of the electromagnetic spectrum devoted to visible light?”
"I do," said Star Pirate. Zoar nodded, satisfied, then poured them all another cup of black Martian wine.
"And does your knowledge of the history of recent centuries extend to the principles of radio-jamming? Of broadcasting on the same frequency in order to blanket, to negate, to wipe out, the original broadcast?" inquired the diminutive sage.
The light of cognition illuminated the space-tanned features of the young redhead in the gray zippersuit. He nodded dumbly.
"Excellent!" said Dr. Zoar, reaching for the cold stone bottle of wine. "Do have a drop or two more . . . I am delighted to learn that your, ah, association with our webfooted friend here has not, as I might very well have feared, dimmed your intelligence."
Phath glowered, scowled, but said nothing. For one thing, his mouth was full of sausage and cheese at the moment. For another, there was nothing much to be said. He and Zoar had never been able to agree on anything, except for their mutual devotion to the redheaded youth who was their leader.
"And is there another problem with which I may help, perchance, with my feeble wits?" purred Dr. Zoar. He was feeling fine, having already solved the mystery of The Blur's invisibility—at least to his own satisfaction.
Star Pirate cleared his throat, and mentioned the puzzle of the utter disappearance of the dead-black cruiser, once it was finished robbing a cargo ship off Callisto. According to the magno-detectors of the Callistan Port Authority, the pirate craft had neither landed in the fungus-forests of that jungle moon, nor had it journeyed into deep space. It had simply vanished from human knowledge.
"Nonsense," snapped Zoar, helping himself to another noggin of the excellent wine. "There is an answer to every question, elsewise that question could not be asked. All that is required is the application of human intelligence ... of knowledge . . .ah! Yes; of course; or, at least, perhaps. For I cannot be certain, without investigation. Tell me, boy—what is unique about Callisto, moon of Jupiter?"
Star Pirate wrinkled his brow, frowning in thought.
"Well," he said at length, "for one thing, it's the largest known moon in the System, large enough to be counted as a planet, like Mercury, if it was in free orbit around the Sun and not in a captive orbit about Jupiter."
"True enough," grunted Dr. Zoar. "But what else?"
Star scowled, rubbing his brow. "Well, it has an atmosphere, but, then, so have lo and Ganymede, and—
"No, not that. Think, boy! Think!" rapsed the old Martian savant.
Star racked his brain, somewhat befuddled by the old strong Martian wine, but not to any great degree. Suddenly his brow cleared and he grinned his famous grin, and uttered a brief sentence of seven words, which made Phath blink incredulously, but Zoar grin with delight.
"Ah! Splendid!" crowed the old savant. "It heartens me that your deplorable relationship with this web-footed swamp-lizard has not—as I feared it might do, by now—sapped your Intellectual vigor! Well, my boy, I believe that you are now in possession of all the data you require in order to bring the depredations of this bandit of the spaceways to an end, so I will bid you and your, um, confederate, farewell, and return to my studies ..."
They waded back across the stony plateau, leaning against the bitter wind, masked against the dry air, all the way to where the Jolly Roger awaited their coming. Star Pirate had a pretty fair notion that he now held the keys to this mystery in his hands, but, as for Patth, the milk-pale Venusian was completely in the dark.
6. The Blur Unmasked!
The Interplanet Lines freighter Uranus Gal paused briefly at Titan to take aboard a large shipment of semi-precious metal ore in purified ingot form, before breaking orbit and directing its flight to Callisto.
The only persons aboard who were not either officers or crewmen were two company officials, a secretary in the employment of Interplanet and one of the Interplanet scientists, who had been studying radionic energy waves in the gulfs beyond Saturn.
The purser, however, was a new man, unknown to the crew. He had curly red hair, mischievous green eyes, an impish grin, and had found it remarkably easy to make friends aboard ship.
In the course of time, the Uranus Gal arrived in parking orbit around Callisto, and the Captain, a yellowskinned Uranian called Quolk, prepared to instruct his communications officer to call up the tugs which would carry down to the surface of the jungle moon his cargo of semiprecious metals.
There occurred, however, an interruption in these plans. In the form of the muzzle of a proton needle, thrust against the spine of Captain Quolk by a hand unseen.
A cold voice whispered in his ear: "This is The Blur speaking. Place your weapon on the console and instruct your officers to similarly disarm themselves, and I will guarantee to you that none of your people will be hurt. Disobey, and I refuse to become responsible for the consequences."
Quolk stiffened, glared, then subsided, grumbling. He plucked his proton needle from its holster and placed it atop the control console. Then, just as he was about to raise his voice and instruct the others on the bridge to do the same, an unexpected voice spoke from the rear.
"This, friend Blur, is the pressure of a proton needle planted in your own back," the voice said pleasantly. "Now, unless you would enjoy having a sizeable portion of your backbone reduced to drifting atoms—which I really do not think you would enjoy at all—I suggest that you drop your needier on the floor. And if you happen to bear any other weapon, drop that one, too. Because, in the ancient turn of phrase, Blur, the jig is up."
There ensued a few moments of utter silence. Then there came to the ears of all in the vicinity the thud of a handgun dropped to the flooring. Moments later, the weapon melted into visibility.
With one foot. Star Pirate kicked it well away from where he stood behind The Blur.
He twisted the vernier on the power unit he wore, this way and that, until suddenly sparks sizzled and a shadowy figure came slowly into view, standing between him and the Uranian, Captain Quolk. It was slight, bent, and draped in a veil of dark cloth.
"Star Pirate, I believe," whispered the veiled figure, with a slight bow of the head.
Star nodded slightly—not for one moment relaxing the pressure of the proton needle he held firmly against the spine of The Blur.
"Professor Jonas Pertinax, I believe," he said, and it was observed by Captain Quolk and one or another of the officers on the bridge that the dark-veiled figure, now fully visible, flinched violently.