As the power system aboard that same asteroid screeched into disruption and then silence, a massive electromagnetic shock wave was dispensed from its surface. A great pulse of destruction moved through space at the speed of light. Although it was not strong enough to harm spacecraft, the microwave probes were no match for its power. As the pulse swept past the probes, they winked out in flashes of golden light. On the master screen aboard the _Tempest_ and in Richard Starlight’s office, viewers watched the golden net disappear. Although it was past midnight, Richard and John Rwakatare were wide awake with their eyes glued to the screen. From the center where the asteroid was indicated, an expanding circle of darkness went forth, gradually swallowing up all the probes. It was obvious to Richard that the microwave net was doomed. “Computer,” he said in a dull voice. “How much longer until the net disappears?” “Four minutes, twelve seconds,” came the mellow voice. “The eighteen ships are adrift,” Richard said. “We can’t lose them. But if this asteroid is maneuverable, as it must be, Zimbardo can speed up, slow down, or change course and avoid our attack. He can disappear.” Richard’s body tensed and he raised his voice. “How did he know about the probes?!” he exclaimed, with exasperation. “The spy,” responded John Rwakatare. * * * * * Aboard the pirates’ asteroid, power was returning. An emergency backup system had kicked in, causing the lights to flicker back on and the atmosphere recycler to hum quietly back into efficiency. With covert glances back at Zimbardo, the men returned to their stations. Zimbardo barked out a command. “Status report!” “Right away, sir,” said Gene, taking his own seat. He attended to various dials and incoming signals. Zimbardo stood up and walked over to the great window that overlooked the huge rocket pad outside. There were seven ships left--six belonging to the independent smugglers, Jeff Jenner, Lorry, and Captain Kimball, and his own personal ship, the _Tartarus_. Even the _Silver Spear_ had been taken by Lorry. The asteroid was nearly empty of men; only his support crew, the smugglers and their crews, and a few others remained. “Sir,” spoke up Gene. His voice trembled. He spoke as one apologizing. “Mr. Zimbardo. Mr. Lather sent in a frantic message that all eighteen ships were under attack. The transmission was cut off in mid-sentence. I scanned their location, sir, and detected three large Space Command ships approaching our convoy. They are about to be captured, sir.” Zimbardo turned slowly and looked at Gene without a change in expression. “And?” he said. “There’s more, I can tell. And...”