STAR PIRATE By FREDERICK ARNOLD KUMMER, JR. It meant death if Vance McClean ever returned to Ceres. Still, a cool million in palladium was tempting bait to that exiled star-pirate. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1940. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] It was cold that night, I remember. Cold and clear as ice. And although Ceres has no moon ... it's hardly more than a satellite itself, ... the starlight penetrated its thin, dustless atmosphere with surprising brilliance, throwing weird shadows across the icy plain. Gazing through the window of the little administration building, I could see the head of the mine shaft perhaps a mile away, and the huts of the miners, all dark, for now that the rich vein of palladium was exhausted, my uncle had dismissed our workmen. The scene was a familiar one to me. I had lived on the asteroid for fifteen years and my recollections of earth, which I had left at the age of five, were hazy, a series of dream-like impressions of big buildings, green grass, and warm yellow sunlight. I felt very lonely that evening with the workmen gone and my Uncle John at Verlis arranging for our passage to earth. Cerean Mining, Inc., had paid well these fifteen years before the vein ran out; in the huge wall-safe behind me were stacks of the gray ingots, Uncle John's profits over that period of time. Nearly a million dollars' worth in earth currency. He planned to take the precious metal back to earth with him, where its sale would bring higher prices than on Ceres, then retire on his hard-earned proceeds. He was paying my fare back to earth, gratis, and had arranged to get me a job there, which was more than many uncles would have done for a needy and lonely nephew. I was thinking about earth, as I sat there at the office desk, my back to the big wall safe, a heavy flame gun lying on the blotter before me. I was supposed to guard the palladium until Uncle John returned, though this was a mere formality. Ceres was too small for anyone to get very far, and all the passenger liners leaving Verlis were thoroughly checked. And even supposing some thief were to overcome me, force the huge, triply-reinforced safe, he would find it hard, even in Ceres' light gravity, to carry off a million dollars' worth of palladium. So I wasn't greatly worried about playing guard; my thoughts were busy trying to visualize earth, planning what I would do there when I arrived. About eleven o'clock, earth-time, however, I awoke with a start from my day-dreaming. A light ... a lurid flickering light ... was dancing through the big glassex window. I leaped to my feet, gripping the flame gun, and peered out. A sleek, silvery little space-ship was settling down on the plain outside!