Up ahead, Astro saw a huge building, wide and sprawling but only a few stories high. It was nearly dark now and lights began to wink on in the many windows. He guessed that he was being taken to the building and was not surprised when the leader pulled him by the arm, guiding him toward a small side door. There was a curious look about the building and the cadet couldn't figure out what it was. Glancing quickly at the wall as he passed through the door, he nearly burst out laughing. The building was made of wood! He guessed that the rebels were using materials at hand rather than importing anything from outside planets. And since Venus was largely a planet of jungles and vegetation, with few large mineral deposits, wood would be the easiest thing to use.

The inside of the building was handsomely decorated and designed. He saw walls covered with carvings, depicting old legends about the first colonists. He shook his head. "Boy," he thought, "they sure go for the Venusian stuff in a big way!"

"All right!" snapped the leader. "Stop here!"

Astro stood before a huge double door that had been polished to a brilliant luster. The cadet waited for the leader to enter, but the Nationalist stood perfectly still, eyes straight ahead. Suddenly the doors swung open, revealing a huge chamber, at least a hundred and fifty feet long. At the far end a man dressed in white with a green band across his chest sat in a beautifully carved chair. Arrayed on either side of him were fifty or more men dressed in various shades of green. The man in white lifted his hand and the patrol leader stepped forward, pushing Astro before him. They walked across the polished floor and stopped ten feet away from the man in white, the patrol leader bowing deeply. Astro glanced at the men standing at either side of the man in white. The bulge of paralo-ray pistols was plainly visible beneath their flowing robes.

The man in white lifted his hand in the salute Astro had seen before. Then the patrol leader straightened up and began to speak rapidly in the Venusian dialect. Translating easily, Astro heard him report his capture. When he concluded, the man in white looked at Astro closely and spoke three words. Astro shook his head.

"He does not speak our mother tongue, Lactu," volunteered the patrol leader.

The man in white nodded. "How is it," he said in English, "that you are a native-born Venusian and do not speak the language of your planet?"

"I was an orphan. I had very little formal education," said Astro. "And as long as we're asking questions around here, how about my asking a few? Who in space are you? What's the idea of holding me a prisoner?"

"One question at a time, please, brother Venusian," said the man in white. "And when you address me, my name is Lactu."

"Lactu what?" asked Astro belligerently.

"Your own name should tell you that we on Venus only have one name."

"Never mind that rocket wash!" barked Astro. "When do I get out of here?"

"You will never leave here as you came," said Lactu quietly.

"What does that mean?" demanded the cadet.

"You have discovered the existence of our base. Ordinarily you would have been burned to a crisp and left in the jungle. Fortunately, you are a Venusian by birth, and therefore have the right to join our organization."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," said Lactu, "that you will take an oath to fight until death if necessary to free the planet Venus and the Venusian citizens from the slavery of the Solar Alliance and—"

"Awright, buster!" roared Astro. "I've had enough of that rocket wash! I took an oath of allegiance to the Solar Guard and the Solar Alliance, to uphold the cause of peace throughout the universe and defend the liberties of the planets. Your idea is to destroy peace and make slaves out of the people of Venus—like these dummies you've got here!" Astro gestured contemptuously at the men standing on both sides of Lactu. "I don't want any part of you, so start blasting!" continued the big cadet, his voice booming out in the big room. "But make it good, 'cause I'm tough!"

There was a murmur among the men and several put their hands on the butts of their paralo-ray guns. Even the calm expression in Lactu's eyes changed.

"You are not afraid of us, are you?" he asked in a low, almost surprised tone of voice.

"You, nor anything that crawls in the jungle like you!" shouted Astro. "If you're not happy with the way things are run on Venus, why don't you take your beef to the Solar Alliance?"

"We prefer to do it our way!" snapped one of the men near Lactu. "And as for you, a few lashes with a Venusian wet whip will teach you to keep a civil tongue!"

Astro turned around slowly, looking at each of the men individually. "I promise you," he said slowly, "the first man who lays a whip on me will die."

"And who, pray, will do the killing?" snorted a short, stout figure in the darkest of the green uniforms. "You? Hardly!"

"If it isn't me"—Astro turned to face the man—"it will be any one of a thousand Space Cadets."

"You have a lot of confidence in yourself and your friends," said Lactu. "Death apparently doesn't frighten you."

"No more than it does any man of honor," said the cadet. "I've faced death before. As for my friends"—Astro shrugged and grinned—"touch me and wait for what happens. And by the stars, mister, you can depend on it happening!"

"Enough of this, Lactu!" said a man near the end of the group. "We have important business to conduct. Take this foolish boy out and do away with him!"

Lactu waved his hand gently. "Observe, gentlemen, here is the true spirit of Venus. This boy is not an Earthman, nor a Martian. He is a Venusian—a proud Venusian who has drifted with the tides of space and taken life where he found it. Tell me honestly, gentlemen, what would you have thought of Astro, a Venusian, if he had acted any differently than he has? If he had taken an oath he does not believe and groveled at our feet? No, gentlemen, to kill this proud, freeborn Venusian would be a crime. Tell me, Astro, do you have any skills?"

"I can handle nuclear materials in any form."

"We are wasting time, Lactu!" exclaimed one of the men suddenly. "Settle with this upstart later. Now let us take a vote on the issue before us. The ship is waiting to blast off for Mercury. Do we ask for her assistance, or not?"

There was a loud murmur among the assembled men, and Lactu held up his hand. "Very well, we will vote. All in favor of asking the people of Mercury to join our movement against the Alliance will say aye!"

"Aye," chorused the men.

"Against?"

Lactu looked around, but there was no reply.

Lactu turned back to Astro. "Well, Venusian, this is your last chance to join forces with us and to fight for your mother planet."

"Go blast your jets!" snapped Astro. Immediately Lactu's eyes became hard steely points.

"That was your last chance!" he said. "Take him out and kill him!"

The door suddenly burst open and a green-clad trooper raced across the bare floor, bowing hastily before Lactu. "Forgive this interruption, Lactu," he said breathlessly. "There are men in the jungle headed for the canyon rim. Three of them!"

Lactu turned to Astro. "Your friends, no doubt!" He snapped an order. "Capture them and bring them to me. And as for you, Astro, we are in need of capable men to build war heads for our space torpedoes. To ensure the safety of your friends, I would advise your working for us. If not, your friends will die before another night falls."



CHAPTER 12

"You're right, Tom," said Major Connel. "They must be around here somewhere. Start looking. If they're not here, it may mean he's still alive."

It was Tom who had thought of looking for Astro's weapons. Refusing to believe that his unit mate had been killed, the curly-haired cadet was examining the torn jungle suit when the idea occurred to him.

Quickly Roger, Connel, and Tom spread out over the trampled area, searching the underbrush for Astro's paralo-ray pistol or shock rifle. Connel examined the underbrush and vines closely for scorch marks made by the blaster. Finding none, he rejoined the boys.

"Well?" he asked.

"Nothing, sir," replied Roger.

"Can't find them, Major," said Tom.

Connel smacked his fists together and spoke excitedly. "I'm sure Astro wouldn't be caught unawares by a couple of things like a snake or a tyrannosaurus without putting up a fight. If he was attacked suddenly, he would have fired at least one shot, and if it went wild, it would have burned the vines and brush around here. You didn't find his weapons, and there are no scorched areas. I'll stake my life on it, Astro's alive!"

Roger's and Tom's faces brightened. They knew Connel had no proof, but they were willing to believe anything that would keep their hopes for their giant unit mate alive.

"Now," said Connel, "assuming he is not dead, and that he is somewhere in the jungle, we have to figure out what he would do."

Roger was thoughtful a moment. "How long would he last without his jungle suit, sir?"

"What do you mean?" asked Connel.

Tom's eyes lit up. "If he's alive, sir, then he's probably following a path or trail that would keep him away from heavy underbrush," he said.

Connel thought a moment. "There's only one trail away from here." He turned and pointed to the trail made by the tyrannosaurus. "That one."

The three spacemen stared at the wide path left by the huge beast. Connel hesitated. "It's due north," he said finally. "We've come a full day west and should be making a turn north. We'll follow the tyrannosaurus's trail for a full day."

Roger and Tom grinned. They knew Connel was making every effort to find Astro, while still keeping his mission in mind.

The three spacemen moved along the trail quickly, eyes alert for any sign Astro might have left. Connel saw the great bloodstains left by the tyrannosaurus and cautioned the two cadets. "This tyranno is wounded pretty badly. It might be heading back for its lair, but it might not make it, and stop along the way. Be careful and keep your eyes open for any sign that he might have—"

Connel was stopped by Tom's sudden cry. "Major! Look!"

Connel turned and stared. A thousand yards ahead of them on the broken trail they saw the monstrous bulk of a tyrannosaurus emerge from the gloom.

"By the rings of Saturn," breathed Connel, "that's the one!"

The great beast spotted the three Earthmen at the same instant. It raised itself on its hind legs, and shaking its massive head in anger, started to charge down its own trail toward them.

"Disperse!" cried Connel. "Take cover!"

Tom and Roger darted to one side of the trail while Connel dived for the other. Taking cover behind a tree, the boys turned and pointed their rifles down the trail. They saw that the tyrannosaurus had already covered half the distance between them.

"Aim for the legs!" shouted Connel, from his place of concealment. "Don't try for a head shot! He's moving too fast! Give it to him in the legs. Try to cut him down!"

Roger and Tom lay flat on the ground and trained their rifles on the approaching beast.

"I'll take the right leg," said Roger. "You take the left, Tom."

"On target!" replied Tom, squinting through the sight.

"Ready!" Connel's voice roared across the trail.

Only a hundred and fifty feet away the tyrannosaurus, hearing Connel's voice, suddenly stopped. Its head weaved back and forth as though it suspected a trap.

"Fire!" roared Connel.

Tom and Roger fired together, but at the same moment the monster lunged toward Connel's position. Both shots missed, the energy charges merely scorching its sides.



The tyrannosaurus roared with anger and turned toward the boys, head down and the claws of its short forelegs extended.

At that moment Connel opened fire, aiming for the monster's vulnerable neck. But it was well protected behind its shoulders and the spaceman only succeeded in drawing the beast's attention back to himself.

At this instant Tom and Roger opened fire again, sending violent shock charges into the beast's hide. Caught in the withering cross fire, it turned blindly on the boys and charged at them. The two cadets fired coolly, rapidly, unable to miss the great bulk. The air became acrid with the sharp odor of ionized air. Maddened now beyond the limits of its endurance, hit at least twenty times and wild with pain, the great king of the Venusian jungle bore down on the two cadets.



Roger and Tom saw that their fire was not going to stop the tyrannosaurus's charge. They were pouring a nearly steady stream of fire into the monster now, while on the other side of the trail Connel was doing the same, raking the monstrous hulk from the forelegs to the hindquarters.

The boys jumped back, Tom still facing the beast and firing his rifle from the waist. But Roger stumbled in the tangle of the underbrush and fell backward, dropping his rifle. The beast's head swooped low, jaws open.

Seeing Roger's danger, Tom jumped downward again without hesitation and fired point-blank at the beast's scaly head, only ten feet away.

The monster roared in sudden agony and pulled back, jerking his head up against a thick branch of the tree overhead. The limb tore loose under the impact and fell crashing to the ground on top of Roger.

From behind, Connel stepped closer to the tyrannosaurus and fired from a twenty-five-foot range. It wavered and stumbled back, obviously mortally wounded. From both sides Tom and Connel poured their weapons' power into the giant beast. Blinded, near death, the monster wavered uncertainly. Bellowing in fear and pain, it turned and lumbered back down the trail.

Connel and Tom watched it until they were certain it could not attack them without warning again, and then they hurried to Roger. The heavy tree limb had landed across his back, pinning him to the ground.

"Roger!" yelled Tom. "Roger, are you all right?"

The blond-haired cadet didn't answer. Grabbing a stout branch lying on the ground near by, Connel and Tom worked it beneath the limb which lay across Roger's body and pried it up.

"I've got it," said Connel, holding the weight of the limb on his shoulder. "Pull him out!"

Tom quickly pulled the unconscious cadet clear and laid him on the ground. Dropping the limb, Connel bent down to examine the boy. He ran his fingers along Roger's spine, feeling the bones one by one through the skin-tight jungle suit. Finally he straightened and shook his head. "I can't tell anything," he said. "We'll have to take him back to Sinclair's right away." He stood up. "I'll make a stretcher for him. Meanwhile, you go after that tyranno and finish him off. He's pretty far gone, but you never can tell."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Tom. He picked up his rifle and reloaded it, checking it carefully. He repeated the precaution with Roger's blaster.

"Hurry up," urged Connel, already reaching for a suitable branch. "Time means everything now."

"Be right back, sir," replied Tom. And as he walked away, he looked back at the unconscious form of his unit mate. He could not help reflecting on the bitter fact that already two members of the expedition were in danger, and they were no closer to their goal of finding the Nationalists' hidden base.

Moving carefully, one of the two rifles slung over his shoulder, the other in his hand ready for use, Tom followed the trail of the tyrannosaurus. Two thousand yards farther along he saw a place where the monster had fallen and then struggled back to its feet to stagger on. Rounding a turn in the trail, Tom stopped abruptly. Before him, not a hundred feet away, the beast lay sprawled on the ground. The area all around was devoid of any vegetation. It was trampled down to the black soil. Tom deduced that it was the beast's lair. He pressed forward cautiously until he was a scant thirty feet away, and crouched between the roots of a huge tree where he would be protected should the monster be able to rise and fight again.

Sighting carefully on the base of the monster's neck, he squeezed the trigger of the shock rifle. A full energy charge hit the tyrannosaurus in its most vulnerable spot. It jerked under the sudden blast, involuntarily tried to rise to its feet, and then fell back, the ground shaking under the impact of its thirty tons. Then, after one convulsive kick with its hind legs that uprooted a near-by tree, the beast stiffened and lay still.

Tom waited, watching the beast for signs of life. After five minutes he stepped forward cautiously, his rifle ready. He circled the tyrannosaurus slowly. The great bulk towered above him, and the cadet's eyes widened in amazement at the size of the fallen giant. Stopping at its head, which was as wide as he was tall, Tom looked at the jaws and teeth that had torn so many foes into bloody bits, and shook his head. He had come to the jungle to kill just such a beast. But with Astro missing and Roger unconscious the thrill of victory was somehow missing. He turned and headed back down the trail.

Connel had finished the litter by the time Tom returned, and the officer was leaning over the blond-haired cadet, examining his back again.

"We'd better move out right away, Tom," said Connel. "I still can't tell what's wrong. It may be serious, and then it may be nothing more than just shock. But we can't take a chance."

Tom nodded. "Very well, sir." He adjusted his shoulder pack, slung both rifles over his shoulder, and started to pick up his end of the litter when suddenly the jungle silence was shattered by a deafening roar. Connel jumped to his feet!

"Corbett!" he cried. "That's a rocket ship blasting off!"

"It sure sounded like it, sir," replied Tom.

"And I'll stake my life it's not more than a half mile away!"

The two men jumped out into the trail and scanned the sky. The unmistakable roar of a spaceship echoed through the jungle. The ship was accelerating, and the reverberations of the rocket exhaust rolled over the treetops. Suddenly a flash of gleaming metal streaked across the sky and Connel roared.

"We've found it, Corbett!" He slapped the cadet on the back. "The Nationalists' base! We've found it!"

Tom nodded, a half-smile on his face. "We sure have, Major." He hesitated a moment. "You know, sir, if Roger is really badly hurt we might not make it back to Sinclair's in time, so—" He stopped.

"I know what you're thinking, Tom," said the officer, "and I agree. But one of us has to go back with the information."

"You go, sir," said Tom. "I'll take Roger and—"

"You can't carry him alone—"

"I can make it somehow," protested Tom.

Connel shook his head. "I'll help you."

"You mean, you're going to allow yourself to be captured too?" spluttered Tom.

"Not quite." Connel smiled. "But a good intelligence agent gets as much information as he can. And he gets correct information! I'll help you get him to the base and you can take him on in for medical attention. I'll get back to Sinclair's later."

Tom tried to protest, but the burly spaceman had turned away.



CHAPTER 13

"Stand where you are!"

Tom and Major Connel stiffened and looked around, the unconscious form of Roger stretched between them on the litter. From the jungle around them, green-clad Nationalists suddenly emerged, brandishing their guns.

"Put Roger down," muttered Connel quietly. "Don't try anything."

"Very well, sir," replied Tom, and they lowered the litter to the ground gently.

"Raise your hands!" came the second command from a man who appeared directly in front of them.

Standing squarely in front of them, the little man said something in the Venusian dialect and waited, but Connel and Tom remained silent.

"I guess you don't speak the Venusian tongue," he sneered. "So I'll have to use the disgusting language of Earth!" He looked down at the unconscious form of Roger. "What happened to him?"

"He was injured in a fight with a tyrannosaurus," replied Connel. "May I remind you that you and these men are holding guns on an officer of the Solar Guard. Such a crime is punishable by two years on a prison asteroid!"

"You'll be the one to go to prison, my stout friend!" The man laughed. "A little work in the shops will take some of that waistline off you!"

"Are you taking us prisoner?"

"What do you think?"

"I see." Connel seemed to consider for a moment. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Drifi, squad officer of the jungle patrol."

"Connel, Senior Officer, Solar Guard," acknowledged Connel. "If we are being held prisoner, I wish to make a request."

"Prisoners don't make requests," said Drifi, and then added suspiciously, "What is it?"

"See that this man"—Connel indicated Roger—"is given medical attention at once."

Drifi eyed the major cautiously.

"I make this request as one officer to another," said Connel. "A point of honor between opponents."

Drifi's eyes gleamed visibly at the word officer, and Tom almost grinned at Connel's subtle flattery.

"You—and you," snapped Drifi at the green-clad men around them, "see that this man is taken to the medical center immediately!" Two men jumped to pick up the litter.

"Thank you," said Connel. "Now will you be so kind as to tell me what this is all about?"

"You'll find out soon enough. We have a special way of treating spies."

"Spies!" roared Connel. The officer sounded so indignant that Tom was almost fooled by his tone. "We're hunters! One of our party is lost here in the jungle. We were searching for him when we were attacked by a tyrannosaurus. During the fight, this man was injured. We're not spies!"

Drifi shrugged his shoulders, and barking a command to his men, turned into the jungle. Connel and Tom were forced to follow.

They were taken to the giant teakwood that Astro had seen, and Tom and Connel watched silently as the door opened, revealing the vacuum tube. The men crowded into the car and it dropped to the lower level.

Following the same twisting turns in the tunnels, Tom and Connel were brought to the armory and saw the men surrender their weapons and change their helmets and shoes. They tried desperately to get a look at the faces of the men around them while the headgear was being changed, but, as before, the men were careful to keep their faces averted.

Continuing down the tunnel, Connel tried to speak to Drifi again. "I would appreciate it greatly, sir," he said in his most formal military manner, "if you could give me any news about the other man of our party. Have you seen him?"

Drifi did not answer. He marched stiffly ahead, not even bothering to look at Connel.

As they neared the exit, Connel drifted imperceptibly closer to Tom and whispered out of the side of his mouth, "Keep your eyes open for ships. Count as many as you can. How many are armed, their size, and so on. Look for ammunition dumps. Check radar and communications installations. Get as much information as you can, in case only one of us can escape."

"Yes, sir," whispered Tom. "Do you think they might have Astro?"

"It's a good guess. We were following the tyrannosaurus's trail when they caught us, and I'm pretty sure Astro had been doing the same thing."

"Stop that talking!" snapped Drifi, suddenly whirling on them. "You," he shouted at one of the guards, "get up here and keep them apart!"

A guard stepped quickly between Tom and Connel, and the conversation ended.

At the exit Connel and Tom stopped involuntarily at the sight before them. Astro had entered the canyon near twilight, but the two spacemen got a view of the Nationalists' base under the full noon sun. Connel gasped and muttered a space oath. Tom turned halfway to his superior and was starting to speak when both were shoved rudely ahead. "Keep moving," a guard growled.

As they walked, their eyes flicked over the canyon, alert for details. Tom counted the ships arrayed neatly on the spaceport some distance away, then counted others outside repair shops with men scurrying over them like so many ants. Near the center of the canyon the bare trunk of a giant teakwood soared skyward, a gigantic communications tower. Tom scanned the revolving antenna, and from its shape and size deduced the power and type of radar being used at the base. He admitted to himself that the Nationalists had the latest and best. Connel was busy too, noting buildings of identical design scattered around the canyon floor that were too small to be spaceship hangars or storage depots. He guessed that they were housings for vacuum-tube elevator shafts that led to underground caves.

The canyon echoed with the splutter of arc welders, the slow banging of iron workers, the cough and hissing of jet sleds, the roar of activity that meant deadly danger to the Solar Alliance. Connel noticed as he moved across the canyon floor that the workers were in good spirits. The morale of the rebels, thought the space officer, was good! Too good!

At a momentary halt in their march, when Drifi stopped to speak with a sentry, Tom and Connel found an opportunity to speak again.

"I've counted a dozen big converted freighters on the blast ramps, sir," whispered Tom hurriedly. "Three more being repaired, nearly finished, and there are about fifty smaller ships, all heavily armed."

"That checks with my count, Tom," replied Connel hurriedly. "What do you make of the radar?"

"At least as good as we have!"

"I thought so, too! If a Solar Guard squadron tried to attack this base now, they'd be spotted and blasted out of space!"

"What about stores, sir?" asked Tom. "I didn't see anything like a supply depot."

Connel told him of the small buildings which he believed housed the elevator shafts to underground storerooms. "Only one thing is missing!" he concluded.

"What's that, sir?"

"The nuclear chambers where they produce ammunition for their fleet."

"It must be underground too, sir," said Tom. "There isn't a building in the canyon that's made of concrete and steel."

"Right. Either that, or it's back up there in the cliffs in one of those tunnels!" The officer snorted. "By the stars, Corbett, this place is an atom bomb ready to go off in the lap of the Solar Alliance."

"What are we going to do, sir?" asked Tom. "So far, it looks as if it's going to be tough to get out again."

"We'll have to wait for a break, Tom," sighed Connel.

"I hope they've taken good care of Roger," said the cadet in a low voice. "And I hope they've got Astro."

"Watch it," warned Connel. "Drifi's coming back. Remember, if we're separated and you do manage to escape, get back to Sinclair's. Contact Commander Walters and tell him everything that's happened. The code name for direct emergency contact through Solar Guard communications center in Venusport is Juggernaut!"

"Juggernaut!" repeated Tom in a whisper. "Very well, sir. But I sure hope we aren't separated."

"Well have to take what comes. Sh! Here he comes."

"All right, let's go," said the patrol leader.

They continued across the canyon until they reached a four-story wooden structure without windows. Drifi opened a small door and motioned them inside.

"What is this?" Connel demanded.

"This is where you'll stay until Lactu sends for you. Right now, he is in conference with the Division Leaders."

"Divisions of what? Ships? Men?" asked Connel offhandedly, trying not to show any more than idle curiosity.

"You'll find out when the Solar Guard comes looking for a fight," said Drifi. "Now get in there!"

Tom and Connel were shoved inside and the door closed behind them. It was pitch black, and they couldn't see an inch in front of their faces. But both Tom and Connel knew instantly that they were not alone.

* * * * *

"Come on. Gimme that wrench!" barked Astro. The little man beside him handed up the wrench and leaned over the side of the engine casing to watch Astro pull the nut tight. "Now get over there and throw on the switch," snapped the big cadet.

The little man scurried over to one side of the vast machine shop and flipped on the wall switch. There was an audible hum of power and then slowly the machine Astro had just worked on began to speed up, soon revving up to ten thousand revolutions per minute.

"Is it fixed?" demanded the shop foreman, coming up beside Astro.

"Yeah, she's fixed. But I don't work on another job until you give me another helper. That asteroid head you gave me doesn't know a—" Astro stopped. Something out beyond the double doors caught his eye. It was the sight of Tom and Connel entering the wooden building.

"What's the matter with him?" demanded the foreman.

"Huh? What? Oh—ah—well, he's O.K., I guess," Astro stammered. "It's just that he's a little green, that's all."

"Well, get to work on that heater in chamber number one. It's burned a bearing. Change it, and hurry up about it!"

"Sure—sure!" The big cadet grinned.

"Say, what's the matter with you?" asked the foreman, staring at him suspiciously.

"I'm O.K.," replied Astro quickly.

The foreman continued to stare at Astro as the big cadet turned to his assistant nonchalantly. "Come on, genius, get that box of tools over to the heater!" he shouted. As he turned away, the foreman nodded to the green-clad guard, who followed closely behind Astro, his hand on the butt of his paralo-ray gun.

Seeing the little assistant struggling with the heavy box, Astro stopped and picked it out of his arms with one hand. Grinning, he held it straight out and then slowly brought it around in a complete circle over his head, still holding it with only one hand. The guard's eyes widened behind his plastic helmet at this show of strength.

"You're very strong, Astro," he said, "but you are altogether too contemptuous of a fellow Venusian." He nodded to the small assistant.

"That's right," said Astro. His grin hardened and he leaned forward slightly, balancing on the balls of his feet. "That goes for you and every other green space monkey in this place. Drop that ray gun and I'll tie you up in a knot!"

Frightened, the guard pulled the paralo-ray gun out of its holster, but Astro quickly stepped in and sank his fist deep into the guard's stomach. The man dropped like a stone. Astro grinned and turned his back to walk toward the heater. He heard the other workers begin to chatter excitedly, but he didn't pay any attention to them.

"Astro! Astro!" His little assistant ran up beside him. "You hit a division guard!"

"I did, huh?" replied the big cadet in an innocent tone. "What kind of a division?"

"Don't you know? Venus has been divided into areas called divisions. Each division has a chief, and every Venusian citizen in that division is under his personal jurisdiction."

"Uh-huh," said Astro vaguely. He climbed up on to the machine and began taking off the outer casing.

"The best men in the division are made the Division Chief's personal guards."

"What happens to the second and third and fourth best men?"

"Well, they're given jobs here according to their knowledge and capacities."

"What was your job before you came here?"

"I was a field worker on my chief's plantation."

"Why did you join?" asked Astro. "Did you think it better to have Venusians ruling Venus, instead of belonging to the Solar Alliance?"

"I didn't think about it at all," admitted the little man. "Besides, I didn't join. I was recruited. My chief just put me on a ship and here I am."

"Well, what do you think of it, now that you're here?" asked Astro. He began running his fingers along a few of the valves, apparently paying no attention to the guard who was just now staggering to his feet.

The little assistant paused and considered Astro's question. Finally he replied weakly, "I don't know. It's all right, I guess. It's better here in the shops than in the caves where the others go."

"Others? What others?"

"Those that don't like it," replied the man. "They're sent to the caves."

"What caves?"

"Up in the cliff. The tunnels—" He suddenly stopped when an angry shout echoed in the machine shop. The guard Astro had hit rushed up. He turned to several workmen near by. "Take this blabbering idiot to the caves!" he ordered angrily.

Astro slowly climbed down from the machine and faced the guard menacingly. As the guard's finger tightened on the trigger of his paralo-ray gun, the foreman suddenly rushed up and knocked the gun out of his hand. "You fool! You stiffen this man and we'll be held up in production for hours!"

"So what!" sneered the guard.

"Lactu and your Division Chief will tell you so what!" barked the foreman. He turned to Astro. "And as for you, if you try anything like that again, I'll—"

"You won't do a thing," said Astro casually. "I'm the best man you've got and you know it. Lactu knows it too. So don't threaten me and keep these green space jerks away from me! I'll fix your machines, because I want to, not because you can make me!"

The foreman eyed the big cadet curiously. "Because you want to? You've changed your tune since you first came here."

"Maybe," said Astro. "Maybe I like what I see around here. It all depends."

"Well, make up your mind later," barked the foreman. "Now get that machine fixed!"

"Sure," said Astro simply, turning back to the machine and starting to whistle. Strangely enough, he was happy. He was a prisoner, but he felt better than he had in days. Just knowing that Tom and Major Connel were right across the canyon gave him a surge of confidence. Working over the machine quickly, surely, the big cadet began to formulate a plan. Now was the time! They were together again. Now was the time to escape!



CHAPTER 14

"Put your back against the door, Tom!" snapped Connel. "Quickly!"

Tom felt the powerful grip of the Solar Guard officer's fingers on his arm as he was pulled backward. He closed his eyes, then opened them, hoping to pierce the darkness, but he saw nothing. Beside him, he could sense the tenseness in Connel's body.

There was a rustle of movement to the right of them.

"Careful, Tom," cautioned Connel. "To your right!"

"I hear it, sir," said Tom, turning toward the noise and bracing himself.

"My name is Connel," the burly spaceman suddenly spoke up in loud tones. "I'm an official in the Solar Guard! Whoever you are, speak up! Identify yourself."

There was a moment of silence and then a voice spoke harshly in the darkness.

"How do we know you're a Solar Guard officer? How do we know you're not a spy?"

"Do you have any kind of light?" asked Connel.

"Yes, we have a light. But we are not going to give away our positions. We know how to move in here. You don't."

"Then how do you expect me to prove it?"

"The burden of proof lies with you."

"Have you ever heard of me?" asked Connel after a pause.

"We know there is an officer in the Solar Guard named Connel."

"I am that officer," asserted Connel. "I was sent into the jungle to find this base, but one of our party was injured and we were captured by a patrol."

Tom and Connel heard voices whispering in the darkness and then a loud order.

"Lie down on the floor, both of you!"

The two spacemen hesitated and then got down flat on their backs.

"Close your eyes and lie still. One of us here knows what Connel looks like. I hope for your sake that you're telling the truth. If you're not—" The voice stopped but the threat was plain.

"Do as they say, Tom," said Connel.

The cadet closed his eyes and he heard the shuffle of feet around them. Suddenly there was a flash of light on his face but he kept his eyes tightly closed. The light moved away, but he could tell that it was still burning.

"It's Connel, I think," said a high-pitched voice directly over them.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. I met him once in Atom City at a scientific meeting. He was making a speech with a Professor Sykes."

"That's right," said Connel, hearing the remark. "I was there."

"Do you remember meeting a man from Venus wearing a long red robe?" asked the high-pitched voice.

Connel hesitated. "No," he said. "I only remember talking to three men. Two were from Venus and one was from Mars. But neither of the two from Venus wore a red robe. They wore purple—"

"He's right," acknowledged the voice. "This is Connel."

"Open your eyes," said the first voice.

Connel and Tom opened their eyes and in the light of a small hand torch they saw two gaunt faces before them. The tallest of the men stuck out a bony hand. "My name is Carson." They recognized his voice as the one that had spoken first. "And this is Bill Jensen," he added.

"This is Tom Corbett, Space Cadet," said Connel. He glanced around the room, and in the weak reflected light of the torch, saw almost fifty men crouched against the walls, each of them holding a crude weapon.

"You'll understand our caution, Major," said Carson. "Once before we had a plan to escape and a spy was sent in. As you see, we didn't escape."

"Neither did the spy," commented Jensen grimly.

"How long have you been here?" asked Connel.

"The oldest prisoner has been here for three years," replied Carson. And as the other men began to gather around them, Connel and Tom saw that they were hardly more than walking skeletons. Their cheeks were hollow, eyes sunk in their sockets, and they wore little more than rags.

"And there's no way to escape?" asked Tom.

"Three guards with blasters are stationed on the other side of that door," said Carson. "There is no other entrance or exit. We tried a tunnel, but it caved in and after that they put in a wooden floor." He stamped on it. "Teak. Hard as steel. We couldn't cut through."

"But why are you being held prisoners?" asked Connel.

"All of us joined the Nationalists believing it was just a sort of good-neighbor club, where we could get together and exchange ideas for our own improvement. And when we found out what Lactu and the Division Chiefs were really up to, we tried to quit. As you see, we couldn't. We knew too much."

"Blasted rebels!" muttered Connel. "The Solar Guard will cool them off!"

"I'm afraid it's too late," said Carson. "They're preparing to strike now. I've been expecting it for some time. They have enough ships and arms to wipe out the entire Solar Guard garrison here on Venus in one attack!" He shook his head. "After that, with Solar Guard ships and complete control of the planet—" He paused and sighed. "It will mean a long, bloody space war."

Tom and Connel plied the prisoners with questions and soon began to get a complete picture of the scope of the Nationalist movement.

"Lactu and his commanders should be sent to a prison asteroid for life," said Carson, "for what they have done to former Nationalists."

"Hundreds of unsuspecting Venusians have been brought here under the guise of helping to free Venus. But when they come and recognize what Lactu really intends to do, they want to quit. But it's too late, and they're sent to the caves."

Tom looked at the gaunt man fearfully. There was something in his voice that sent a chill down his spine.

"They are driven like cattle into the canyon walls," continued Carson. "There they are forced to dig the huge underground vaults for storage dumps. They are beaten and whipped and starved."

"Why aren't you in the caves then?" asked Connel.

"Some of us were," replied Carson. "But each of us here owns land and it is necessary to keep us alive to send back directives to our bankers and foremen to give aid in one form or another to Sharkey and the Division Chiefs."

"I see," said Connel. "If you were to die, then your property would be out of their reach."

"Exactly," said Carson.

"Is Sharkey the real leader of the movement?"

"I don't believe so. But then, no one knows. That's the idea of the frosted helmets. If you don't know who a man is, you can liquidate him without conscience. He may be your closest friend, but you would never know it."

"The blasted space crawlers!" growled Connel. "Well, they'll pay!"

"You have a plan?" asked Carson eagerly.

"No," said Connel slowly, "but at least we all have more of a chance now."

"How?" asked Carson.

"The Solar Guard sent us here to find this base. If we don't return, or send some sort of message back within a reasonable time, this jungle will be swarming with guardsmen!"

Carson looked a little disappointed. "We shall see," he said.

* * * * *

There were three things on Astro's mind as twilight darkened into night over the canyon. One, he had to find out why Roger wasn't with Tom and Connel when they were taken into the building; two, he had to figure out a way to contact Tom and Connel; and finally, he had to escape himself, or help Tom and Connel escape.

The big cadet finished the last job in the machine shop. It had taken very little time, but the big cadet had lingered over it, trying to find answers to his three problems. Around him, the workers were leaving their benches and lathes, to be replaced by still others. A twelve-hour shift was being used by the Nationalists in their frantic preparations for an attack on the Venusport garrison of the Solar Guard. Astro finally dropped the last wrench into the tool kit and straightened up. He stretched leisurely and glanced over at his guard. The man was still rubbing his stomach where Astro had hit him, and he watched the big cadet with a murderous gleam in his eye.

"All finished," said Astro. "Where and when do I eat?"

"If I had my way, you wouldn't," sneered the guard.

"Either I knock off and eat," said Astro confidently, "or I call the foreman and you talk to Lactu."

"Feeling pretty big, aren't you?" growled the guard. "I haven't forgotten that punch in the stomach."

"Why, I hardly touched you," said Astro in mock surprise.

The guard glared at him, muttered an oath, and turned away. Astro could see that he was boiling, almost out of his mind with helpless, frustrated anger, and suddenly the young cadet realized how he would be able to move about the base freely. Grinning, he walked arrogantly in front of the guard and out of the shop into the dark Venusian night. It was very warm and many of the workers had stripped down to their trousers. He passed the open doorway of a large tool shop and glanced inside. It was empty. The men had apparently gone to eat. He suddenly stopped, turned to the guard, and growled, "If you want to settle our differences now, we can step inside."

The guard hesitated and glared at Astro. "When I settle with you, big boy, you'll know about it."

"What's the matter with right now?" asked Astro. "Yellow?" He turned and walked into the tool shop without looking back. The guard rushed after him. But the big cadet had carefully gauged the distance between them, and when he heard the rushing steps of the guard immediately behind him, he suddenly spun around, swinging a roundhouse right, catching the guard in the pit of the stomach again. The man stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes bulged and glazed, and he dropped to the floor like a stone. Astro pulled the man to the corner of the empty shop, removed the plastic helmet, and then tied and gagged him. He pulled the helmet over his own head, nearly tearing one ear off, grabbed the gun and stepped back outside. He stood in front of the door and glanced up and down the area between the buildings. Fifty feet away a group of men were working over a tube casing, but they didn't even look up.



Staying in the shadows, he walked down the lane, moving carefully. The plastic helmet would keep him from being recognized right away, but to complete his plan, he needed one of the green uniforms of the guards.

Deciding it would be too risky to walk around the base, he crouched behind a huge crate of machinery at the head of the lane. Sentries were constantly patrolling the area and he was certain that one would pass by soon. He only hoped the man would be big enough. Fifteen minutes later the cadet heard footsteps in a slow measured tread. He peered around the edge of the crate and silently breathed a thankful prayer. It was a green-clad guard, and luckily, almost as big as he was.

Crouching in the shadow of the crate, Astro tensed for the attack. It had to be quick and it had to be silent. He couldn't club the guard because of his helmet. He would have to get him around the throat to choke off any outcry.

The slow steps came nearer and the big cadet raised himself on the balls of his feet, ready to spring. When the guard's shadow fell across him, Astro leaped forward like a striking tiger.

The guard didn't have a chance. Astro's arm coiled around his throat and the cry of alarm that welled up within him died down in a choking gasp. Within seconds he was unconscious and the big cadet had dragged him behind the crate. He stripped him of his uniform, bound and gagged him with his own rags, and crammed him into the crate. Then, protected by the helmet and green uniform and carrying the blaster, the cadet stepped out confidently and strode down the lane.

He went directly to the building he had seen Tom and Connel enter, and walked boldly up to the guard lounging in front of the door.

"You're relieved," said Astro in the Venusian dialect. "They want you up in the caves." The cadet had no idea where the caves were, but he knew that they couldn't be near by and it would be some time before an alarm could be sounded.

"The caves?" asked the guard. "Who said so?"

"The chief. He wants you to identify somebody."

"Me? Identify someone? I don't understand." The guard was puzzled. "What section of the caves?"

"The new section," said Astro quickly, figuring there must be a new and an old section because he had heard a guard refer to the old one.

"Up by the jungle tunnels?"

Astro nodded.

"Must be more of those Solar Guardsmen," said the guard, relaxing. "We have two of them in here, another in the hospital, and one of them working in the machine shop."

Hospital! Astro gulped. That would be Roger. But he dared not ask too many questions. "What's going to happen to them?" he asked casually.

"I don't know," said the guard, "but I wish we'd hurry up and attack Venusport. I'm getting tired of living out here in the jungle."

"Me too," said Astro. "Well, you'd better get going."

The guard nodded and started to walk away. Suddenly Astro stiffened. Two other guards were rounding the corner of the building. He called to the departing guard quickly. "Who's on duty with you tonight?"

"Maron and Teril," replied the guard, and then strode off into the darkness.

"So long," said Astro, turning to face the two men walking toward him. He would have to get rid of them.

"Hello, Maron, Teril," he called casually. "Everything quiet?"

"Yes," replied the shorter of the two, as they stopped in front of Astro, "no trouble tonight."

"Well, there's trouble now!" growled Astro. He brought up the blaster and cocked it. "Make one wrong move, and you're dead little space birds! Get over there and open that door!"

Stunned, both men turned to the door without a protest and Astro took their guns. "Open up!" he growled.

The men slid the heavy bar back and pushed the door open.

"Get inside!" ordered Astro. The two men stumbled inside. Astro stepped to the door. "Tom! Major!"

There was a cry of joy from the blackness within and Astro recognized Tom.

"Astro!" roared Connel, rushing up. "What in the stars—?"

"Can't talk now," said Astro. "Here. Take these blasters and then tie these two up. Close the door, but leave it open a crack. We can talk while I stay outside and keep watch. If there isn't a guard out here, it might mean trouble."

"Right," said Connel. He took the blasters, tossing one over to Tom. "Blast it, I never felt anything so good in my life!" He closed the door, leaving it open an inch.

"Why is Roger in the hospital?" asked Astro quickly.

Connel told him of the fight with the tyrannosaurus and Roger's injury, ending with their capture by the patrol.

"You know what's going on here, Major?" asked Astro.

"I sure do," said Connel. "And the sooner we blast them, the happier I'll be."

"One of us will have to escape and get back to the Polaris to contact Commander Walters," said Astro. "But they've got radar here as good as ours. That has to be put out of commission or they can blast any attacking fleet."

"You're right," said Connel grimly, and turned back into the room. "Tom!" he called.

"Yes, sir," replied Tom, coming up to the door.

"Since Astro and I speak Venusian—" said Connel, and then added when Tom gasped, "Yes, I speak it fluently, but I kept it a secret. That means you're the one to go. Astro and I will have more of a chance here. You escape and return to the Polaris. Contact Commander Walters. Tell him everything that's happened. We'll give you thirty-six hours to make it. At exactly noon, day after tomorrow, we'll knock out their radar."

"But how, sir?" asked Tom.

"Never mind. We'll figure out something. Just get back to the Polaris and tell the Solar Guard to attack at noon, day after tomorrow. If you don't and the fleet attacks earlier, or later, they'll be wiped out."

"What about you, sir?" asked Tom.

"If you get back in time, we'll be all right. If not, then this is good-by. We'll hold out as long as we can, but that can't be forever. We're fighting smart, determined men, Tom. And it's a fight to the finish. Now hurry up and get into one of those uniforms."

While Tom turned back inside to put on the uniform, Connel returned to Astro outside the door. "Think we can do it, Astro?"

"I don't see why not, sir," replied the big cadet.

A moment later Tom returned, dressed in one of the guard's green uniform and wearing a helmet. Carson was with him, similarly clad. "Astro better show me the way out of the base," said Tom. "Carson will stand guard until he gets back."

"Good idea," said Connel. Tom and Carson slipped out the door.

"All set, Astro?" asked Tom.

"Yeah, there's only one thing wrong," replied the big cadet.

"What's the matter?" asked Connel.

"I don't know the way out of the base."



CHAPTER 15

"I can tell you the way out of the base."

Adjusting the plastic helmet over his head, Carson stepped up close to Astro and Tom and spoke confidently. "It's very simple."

"Whew!" exclaimed Tom. "I thought we'd have to go fumbling around."

Carson pointed through the darkness. "Follow this lane straight down until you come to a large repair lock. There's a space freighter on the maintenance cradle outside. You can't miss it. Turn left and follow a trail to the base of the canyon wall. There are jungle creepers and vines growing up the side and you can climb them easily."

Tom nodded and repeated the directions, then turned to Astro. "Maybe you'd better stay here, Astro. I can make it alone."

"No." Connel spoke sharply from the doorway. "Astro speaks Venusian. If you're stopped, he can speak for you. You'd give yourself away."

"Very well, sir," said Tom. "I guess that is best. Ready to go, Astro?"

"Ready," replied the big cadet.

"Good-by, Major," said Tom, reaching into the doorway to shake hands with Connel. "I'll try my best."

"It's a matter of life and death, Tom." Connel's voice was low and husky. "Not our lives, or the lives of a few people, but the life and death of the Solar Alliance."

"I understand, sir." Tom turned to Astro and the two cadets marched off quickly.

They had no difficulty finding the giant ship on the cradles outside the repair shop and quickly turned toward the base of the cliff. Twenty minutes later they had left the center of activity and were close to the canyon wall. They were congratulating themselves on their luck in not being stopped or questioned when suddenly they saw a guard ahead of them on sentry duty.

"Ill take care of him," whispered Astro. "You hide here in the shadows, and when I whistle, you start climbing. Then I'll cover you from there until you get to the top. Got it?"

"Right!" The two cadets shook hands briefly. Each knew that there was no need to speak of their feelings. "Take care of Roger," said Tom. "We don't know how badly he's been injured."

"I'll see to him," said Astro. "Watch me now and wait for my whistle." He turned away and then paused to call back softly, "Spaceman's luck, Tom."

"Same to you, Astro," replied Tom, and then crouched tensely in the shadows.

The big cadet walked casually toward the sentry, who spotted him immediately and brought his gun up sharply, calling a challenge in the Venusian tongue.

"A friend," replied Astro in the same dialect.

The sentry lowered the gun slightly. "What are you doing out here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just taking a walk," said Astro. "Looking for something."

"What?" asked the sentry.

"Trying to make a connection."

"A connection? What kind of connection?"

"This kind!" said Astro suddenly, chopping the side of his hand down on the sentry's neck, between the helmet and his uniform collar.

The sentry fell to the ground like a poleaxed steer and lay still. Astro grinned, then turned and went whistling off into the darkness. Twenty feet away Tom heard the signal and hurried to the base of the cliff. He grabbed a thick vine and pulled himself upward, hand over hand. Halfway up he found a small ledge and stopped to rest. Below him, he could see Astro hurrying back toward the center of the base. The dim lights and the distant hum of activity assured him that so far his escape was unnoticed. He resumed his climb, and fifteen minutes later the curly-haired cadet stood on the canyon rim. After another short rest he turned and plunged into the jungle.

Tom knew that as long as he kept the planet of Earth over his right shoulder, while keeping the distant star of Regulus ahead of him, he was traveling in the right direction to Sinclair's plantation. He stopped to check his bearings often, occasionally having to climb a tree to see over the top of the jungle. He ignored the threat of an attack by a jungle beast. For some reason it did not present the danger it had when he had first entered the jungle, seemingly years before. Under pressure, the cadet had become skilled in jungle lore and moved with amazing speed. He kept the blaster ready to fire at the slightest movement, but fortunately during the first night he encountered nothing more dangerous than a few furry deerlike animals that scampered behind him off the trail.

Morning broke across the jungle in a sudden burst of sunlight. The air was clear and surprisingly cool, and Tom felt that he could make the Sinclair plantation by nightfall if he continued pushing full speed ahead.

He stopped once for a quick meal of the last of the synthetics that he had stuffed in his pocket from his shoulder pack, and then continued in a steady, ground-eating pace through the jungle. Late in the afternoon he began to recognize signs of recent trail blazing, and once he cut across the path Astro had made. He wondered if the trail was one Astro had cut while he was lost, or previously. He finally decided to go ahead on his own, since he had managed to come this far without the aid of any guide markers.

As the darkening shadows of night began to spread over the jungle the young cadet began to worry. He had been allowed thirty-six hours to make it back to the Polaris, communicate with Commander Walters, and tell him the position of the base, and Tom had to allow time for the Solar Guard fleet to assemble and blast off, so that it would arrive at the base at exactly noon on the next day. He had to reach the Sinclair plantation before nightfall or the fleet would never make it.

Suddenly to his left he heard a noisy crashing of underbrush and the roar of a large beast. Tom hesitated. He could hide; he could fight; or he could break to his right and try to escape. The beast growled menacingly. It had picked up his scent. Tom was sure it was a large beast on the prowl for food, and he decided that he could not waste time hiding, or risk being injured in a battle with the jungle prowler. He quickly broke to his right and raced through the jungle. Behind him, the beast picked up the chase, the ground trembling with its approach. It began to gain on him. Tom was suddenly conscious of having lost his bearings. He might be running away from the clearing!

Still he ran on, legs aching and lungs burning. He charged through the underbrush that threatened any moment to trip him. When he was almost at the point of complete exhaustion, and ready to turn and face the beast behind him, he saw something that renewed his spirit and sent new strength through his body. Ahead through the vines and creepers, the slender nose of the Polaris was outlined against the twilight sky.

Disregarding the beast behind him, he plunged through the last few feet of jungle undergrowth and raced into the clearing around the Sinclair home. Behind him, the beast suddenly stopped growling, and when Tom reached the air lock of the Polaris, he saw that the beast had turned back, reluctant to come out of the protection of the jungle.

Tom pulled the air-lock port open and was about to step inside when he heard a harsh voice coming from the shadow of the port stabilizer.

"Just stop right where you are!"

Tom jerked around. Rex Sinclair stepped out of the shadow, a paralo-ray gun in his hand.

"Mr. Sinclair!" cried Tom, suddenly relieved. "Boy, am I glad to see you!" He jumped to the ground. "Don't you recognize me? Cadet Corbett!"



"Yes, I recognize you," snarled Sinclair. "Get away from that air lock or I'll blast you!"

Tom's face expressed the confusion he felt. "But, Mr. Sinclair, you're making a mistake. I've got to get aboard and warn—" He stopped. "What's the idea of holding a paralo ray on me?"

"You're not warning anybody!" Sinclair waved the gun menacingly. "Now get over to the house and walk slowly with your hands in the air or I'll freeze you solid!"

Stunned by this sudden turn of events, Tom turned away from the air lock. "So you're one of them, too," said Tom. "No wonder we were caught in the jungle. You knew we were looking for the base."

"Never mind that," snapped Sinclair. "Get into the house and make it quick!"

The young cadet walked slowly toward the house. He saw the charred remains of the burned outbuildings and nodded. "So it was all an act, eh? You had your buildings burned to throw us off the track. Small price to pay to remain in the confidence of the Solar Guard."

"Shut up!" growled Sinclair.

"You might be able to shut me up, but it'll take a lot more than a bunch of rabble rousers to shut up the Solar Guard!"

"We'll see," snapped Sinclair.

They reached the house and Tom climbed the steps slowly, hoping the planter would come close enough for a sudden attack, but he was too careful. They moved into the living room and Tom stopped in surprise. George Hill and his wife were tied hand and foot to two straight-backed chairs.

Tom gasped. "George! Mrs. Hill!"

George Hill strained against his bonds and mumbled something through the gag in his mouth, but Tom couldn't understand what he was trying to say. Mrs. Hill just looked at the planter with wide, frightened eyes. The cadet whirled around angrily. "Why, you dirty little space rat!"

Sinclair didn't hesitate. He squeezed the trigger of his paralo-ray gun and Tom stiffened into rigidity.

The planter dropped the ray gun into a chair and leisurely began to tie the hands and feet of the immobilized cadet.

"Since you can hear me, Corbett," said Sinclair, "and since you are powerless to do anything about what I'm about to tell you, I'm going to give you a full explanation. I owe it to you. You've really worked for it."

Unable to move a muscle, Tom nevertheless could hear the planter clearly. He mentally chided himself at his stupidity in allowing himself to be captured so easily.

Sinclair continued, "My original invitation to you and your friends, to use my home as a base for your hunting operations was sincere. I had no idea you were in any way connected with the investigation the Solar Guard was planning to make into the Nationalist movement."

Tom was completely bound now, and the planter stepped back, picked up the ray gun, and flipping on the neutralizer, released the cadet from the effects of the ray charge. Tom shuddered involuntarily, his nerves and muscles quivering as life suddenly flowed into them again. He twisted at the bonds on his wrists, and to his amazement found them slightly loose. He was sure he could work his hands free, but decided to wait for a better opportunity. He glanced at the clock on the wall near by and saw that it was nine in the evening. Only fifteen hours before the Solar Guard must attack!

Sinclair sat down casually in a chair and faced the cadet. George and Mrs. Hill had stopped struggling and were watching their employer.

"Do you know anything about the bomb we found on the Polaris on our trip to Venus?" asked Tom.

"I planned that little surprise myself, Corbett," said Sinclair. "Unfortunately our agents on Earth bungled it."

"It seems to me that was pretty stupid. There would have been another man sent in Major Connel's place, and we were warned that something big was in the wind."

"Ah, quite so, Corbett," said Sinclair. "But the destruction of the Polaris would have caused no end of speculation. There would have been an investigation which would have temporarily removed the spotlight from the Nationalist movement. That would have given us ample time to complete our preparations for the attack."

"Then you knew," said Tom bitterly, "when Major Connel, Roger, Astro, and I left here that we were going to be captured."

"Well, that was one of the details of the final plan. Personally, I hoped that you and your nosy major would meet a more dramatic and permanent end in the jungle."

"What are you going to do with us?" asked Tom, glancing at George and his wife. "And what do Mr. and Mrs. Hill have to do with your scheme?"

"Unfortunately they discovered who I am, and of course had to be taken care of. As to your eventual disposition, I haven't had time to think about that."

"Well, you'd better start thinking," said Tom. "And you'd better do a good job when you attack the Solar Guard. Perhaps you don't know it, Sinclair, but the whole pattern of the Solar Guard is one of defense. We do not invite attack, but are prepared for it. And we have the power to counterattack!"

"When we get through with your Solar Guard, Corbett," sneered Sinclair, "there won't be anything left but smoldering heaps of junk and the dead bodies of stupid men!"

The buzz of a teleceiver suddenly sounded in another part of the house and Sinclair left the room quickly. When he was sure the planter was out of earshot, Tom turned to George and whispered, "I think I can work my hands loose. Where can I find a ray gun?" George began to mumble frantically but Tom couldn't understand him, and the sound of returning footsteps silenced Hill. The planter strode back into the room, hurriedly putting on the green uniform of the Nationalists. "I've just received word of a speed-up in the preparations for our attack," he said. "Soon, Corbett—soon you will see what will happen to the Solar Guard!"



CHAPTER 16

"Bring that dirty little space crawler in here!"

Captain Strong had never seen Commander Walters so angry. The cords stood out in his neck and his face was red with fury as he paced up and down the Solar Guard office in Venusport. "A spy," he roared. "A spy right in the heart of our organization!" He shook his head.

The door opened and two burly Solar Guardsmen entered, saluted, and turned to flank the doorway, hands on their paralo-ray pistols. The private secretary of E. Philips James shuffled in slowly, followed by two more guards. Walters stepped up to the thin, intense young man and glared at him. "If I had my way, I'd send you out to the deepest part of space and leave you there!"

The man bit his lip but said nothing.

"Where is your secret base?" demanded Walters.

"I don't know," replied the secretary nervously.

"Who told you to intercept this message from Mercury?" Walters tapped a paper on his desk. "Who gave you your orders?"

"I receive orders on an audioceiver in my home," answered the man, a slight quaver in his voice. "I have never seen my superior."

"And you followed the Nationalist movement blindly, doing whatever they told you, without question, is that it?"

"Yes."

"Yes, sir!" roared Walters.

"Yes, sir," corrected the secretary.

"Who told you to forge those orders for priority seats on the Venus Lark?"

"My superior," said the man.

"How did you know Major Connel was coming here to investigate the Nationalists?"

"I read the decoded message sent to the Solar Delegate, Mr. James."

"Who told you to send men to bomb the Polaris?"

"My superior," said the man.

"Your superior—your superior!" Walters' voice was edged with contempt. "What else has your superior told you to do?"

"A great many things," said the young man simply.

Walters studied the thin face and then turned to Captain Strong. "There's only one thing to do, Steve. There's no telling how many of these rats are inside our organization. Relieve every civilian in any position of trust and put in our own man. I'll make a public teleceiver broadcast in half an hour. I'm declaring martial law."

"Yes, sir," replied Strong grimly.

"If you hadn't been in the code room when this message from Mercury came in, we would never have known the Nationalists were trying to get the Mercurians to join them in their attack on us until it was too late. It's the only break we've had, so far, learning that the Mercurians are still decent, loyal Solar citizens. I hate to think of what would have happened if they hadn't warned us."

"He very nearly got away with it, sir," said Strong. "If I hadn't heard the signal for a top-secret message come through on the coding machine, I never would have suspected him. He tried to hide it in his tunic. He also confessed to trying to kidnap the cadets when he heard me tell them that a cab would be waiting for them."

"Well, we know now," said Walters. He turned to one of the guardsmen. "Sergeant, I'm holding you personally responsible for this man."

"Aye, aye, sir," said the guard, stepping toward the secretary, but Walters stopped him and addressed the man.

"I'll give you one last chance to tell me where your base is and how many ships you have," he said.

The secretary looked down at his feet and mumbled, "I don't know where the base is, and I don't know how many ships there are."

"Then what does this list we found in your tunic mean?" snapped Strong. "These are the names of ships that have been lost in space."

"I don't know. That list was sent to me over the audioceiver by my superior. I was to relay it to Mercury should they accept our proposal to join forces against—" He stopped.

"Get him out of my sight!" barked Walters.

The guards closed in around the little man and he slowly shuffled out of the office.

"I wonder how many more there are like him in our organization, Steve?" The commander had turned to the window and was staring out blindly.

"I don't know, sir," replied Strong. "But I think we'd better be prepared for trouble."

"Agreed," said Walters, turning to the Solar Guard captain. "What do you suggest?"

"Since we don't know how many ships they have, where their base is, or when they plan to attack, I suggest putting the Venus squadrons in defense pattern A. Meanwhile, call in three additional squadrons from Mars, Earth, and Luna. That way, we can at least be assured of an even fight."

"But we don't know if they'll attack here on Venus. Suppose we weaken Earth's fleet and they attack there?" Walters paused, looking troubled. Then he sighed. "I guess you're right. Put the plan into effect immediately. It's the only thing we can do."

At exactly midnight every teleceiver on Venus was suddenly blacked out for a moment and then came into focus again to reveal the grim features of Commander Walters.

In homes, restaurants, theaters, arriving and departing space liners, in every public and private gathering place, the citizens of Venus heard the announcement.

"As commander in chief of the Solar Guard, I hereby place the entire planet of Venus under martial law. All public laws are suspended until further notice. All public officials are hereby relieved of their authority. A ten P.M. until six A.M. curfew will go into effect immediately. Anyone caught on the streets between these hours will be arrested. An attack is expected on the city of Venusport, as well as other Venusian cities, momentarily. Follow established routine for such an occurrence. Obey officers and enlisted men of the Solar Guard who are here on Venus to protect you and your property. That is all!"

* * * * *

In the living room of Sinclair's house Tom waited impatiently for the sound of Sinclair's yacht taking off before attempting to free himself from the rope on his wrists. But when a half-hour had passed with no sound from outside, he decided not to waste any more time.

Relaxing completely, the curly-haired cadet began working his wrists back and forth in the loop of rope. It was slow, painful work, and in no time the skin was rubbed raw. George and Mrs. Hill watched him, wide-eyed. They saw the skin of his wrists gradually turn pink, then red, as the cadet pulled and pushed at the rope. A half-hour had passed before he felt the rope slipping down over the widest part of his hand. Slowly, so as not to lose the precious advantage, he pulled with all his strength, unmindful of the pain. He heard a sharp gasp from Mrs. Hill and then felt the rope become damp. His wrists were bleeding. But at the same time he felt the rope slipping over his hands. He gave a quick tug and the rope slipped off and dropped to the floor, a bloody tangle. He spun around and untied the foreman and his wife quickly, removing the gags from their mouths gently.

"Your wrists!" cried Mrs. Hill.

"Don't worry about them, ma'am," said Tom. He looked at Hill. "How long have you been tied up?"

"Just about an hour before you came," answered the foreman. "I found Sinclair in front of a teleceiver in his room. It's in a secret panel and I didn't know it was there. I waited and heard him talking to someone in Venusian. But he spotted me and pulled a ray gun."

"Do you know where he's gone?" asked Tom.

"No, but I sure wish I did!" said the burly foreman stoutly. "I have something to settle with him."

"That'll have to wait until the Solar Guard is finished with him. Come on!" Tom started toward the door.

"Where are we going?" asked Hill.

"To the Polaris! I've got to warn the Solar Guard of their plans. They're going to attack the Venusport garrison and take over Venus!"

"By the stars!" gasped Mrs. Hill. "Here I've been feeding that man all these years and didn't know I was contributing to a revolution!"

Tom was out of the door and running toward the Polaris before she had finished talking. George followed right behind him.

As the cadet raced across the dark clearing one hope filled his mind—that the Polaris would be in the same condition in which they had left it.

The port was still open where Sinclair had caught him and he climbed inside the giant ship quickly. As soon as he entered, he snapped on the emergency lights and searched the ship carefully. After examining every compartment, and satisfied that there was no one aboard, he made his way back to the radar bridge. There, he saw immediately why Sinclair had felt free to leave the ship. All radar and communications equipment had been completely smashed.

The young cadet returned to the control deck and called down to George Hill, waiting in the air lock. "George! Get Mrs. Hill aboard quickly. We're blasting off!"

"Blasting off?" the foreman called back. "But I thought you were going to contact Venusport!"

"I can't," replied Tom. "Sinclair has smashed the communications and the radar. We'll have to take our information to Venusport in person. I only hope he's left the rockets and atomic motors alone."

"How about using the teleceiver in the house?" asked the foreman, climbing up to the control deck.

"Can't take a chance," said Tom. "This is top secret. They might have the teleceiver tapped."

"Do you know how to handle this ship alone?" asked George, glancing around at the great control board. "I don't know anything about a ship this size."

"I can handle it," said Tom. "Get Mrs. Hill aboard!"

"Here I am, Tommy," said Mrs. Hill, climbing up into the control deck. "I have some bandages and salve for your wrists."

"There's no time, Mrs. Hill," said Tom. "We've got to—"

"Nonsense!" she interrupted firmly. "You just give me your hands. It'll take only a minute!"

Tom reluctantly held out his wrists and Mrs. Hill expertly applied the salve and bandaged the cadet's raw wrists. Admittedly feeling better, Tom turned to the master switch and found it missing. For a second panic seized him, until he remembered that Major Connel had hidden it. He felt under the pilot's chair and breathed easier, pulling out the vital instrument.

"Better get into acceleration chairs," said Tom, strapping himself into his seat. "This might be a rough take-off."

"Watch yourself, Tom," cautioned George. "We aren't afraid for ourselves, but you've got to get to Venusport!"

"If he's left the power deck alone, everything will be O.K."

The young cadet stretched out a trembling hand and switched on the automatic firing control. Then, crossing his fingers, he flipped on the main generator and breathed easier as the steady hum surged through the ship. He thought briefly of Astro and Roger, wishing his two unit mates were at their stations, and then switched on the power feed to the energizing pumps. There was a second's wait as the pressure began to build, and he watched the indicator over his head on the control panel carefully. When it had reached the proper level, he switched in the reactant feed, giving it full D-12 rate. He glanced at the astral chronometer over his head automatically and noted the time.

"Stand by!" he called. "Blast off minus five—four—three—two—one —zero!"

He threw the master switch and a roaring burst of power poured into the main tubes. The ship bucked slightly, raised itself from the ground slowly, and then suddenly shot upward. In less than a minute the Polaris had cleared atmosphere and Tom turned on the artificial-gravity generators. He made a quick computation on the planetary calculator, fired the port steering rockets, and sent the ship in a long arching course for Venusport. Then, unstrapping himself, he turned to see how Mr. and Mrs. Hill had taken the blast-off.

The foreman and his wife were shaking their heads, still in acceleration shock, and Tom helped them out of their cushions.

"Oh, my! Do you boys have to go through this all the time?" Mrs. Hill asked. "It's a wonder to me how a human body can take it."

"I feel pretty much the same way," muttered George.

"A cup of hot tea will fix you up fine," Tom reassured them, and leaving the ship on automatic control, he went into the small galley off the control deck and brewed three cups of tea. In a few moments the elderly couple felt better, and Tom told them of the Nationalists' base and Connel's plan to wreck the radar station at noon the next day. Both Mr. and Mrs. Hill were shocked at the scope of the Nationalists' plan.

"Well, they bit off more than they could chew when they decided to buck the Solar Guard," asserted Tom. "When Commander Walters gets finished with them, Sinclair and the rest won't have anything left but memories!"

"Tell me something, Tom," said George, looking at the control panel thoughtfully. "Have you figured out how you're going to land this ship alone and with no radar?"

"I'll have to use the seat of my pants." Tom smiled, and turned back to his seat. George and his wife looked at each other and quickly strapped themselves into their acceleration cushions.

A few moments later Tom began braking the ship with the nose rockets. It made a slow-climbing arc over the spaceport and then settled slowly, tailfirst. The stern teleceiver was out of order, and the young cadet had to rely entirely on "feel," to get the Polaris in safely. He had calculated his rate of fall, the gravity of Venus, and the power of the rockets, and was dropping at a predetermined rate. At the critical point he increased power on the drive rockets, continuing to fall slowly until he felt the jarring bump of the directional fins touching the ground.

"Touchdown!" he roared triumphantly.

He closed the master switch and turned to look at the smiling faces of Mr. and Mrs. Hill.

"That was fine, Tom," said George, "but I don't want to do it again."

"Don't be a scaredy cat, George Hill!" taunted Mrs. Hill. "Tom handles this ship as if he were born on it."

Tom grinned. "We'd better hurry up. There must be something going on. There aren't any lights on here at the spaceport and all the administration buildings are dark."

He hurried to the air lock and swung it open, jumping lightly to the ground.

"Halt!" growled a rough voice. "Get your hands in the air and stay right where you are!"

Puzzled, Tom did as he was told, announcing, "I'm Space Cadet Tom Corbett, Polaris unit. I request immediate transportation to Commander Walters. I have important information for him."

He was momentarily blinded by the glare of a ring of lights around him, and when he finally could see, he found himself in the middle of a squad of Solar Guardsmen in battle dress.

"What's the password?" asked a tough sergeant whose shock rifle was aimed right at Tom's midsection.

"Juggernaut!" replied Tom quietly.

The word sent the sergeant into a frenzy of action. "Peters, Smith, get the jet car around here!"

"What's up, Sergeant?" asked Tom. "Why is everything so dark?"

"Martial law!" replied the guardsman. "Curfew from ten until six."

"Whew!" gasped Tom. "It looks as if I just made it!"

As George and Mrs. Hill climbed out of the air lock, a jet car raced up and skidded to a stop in front of them. A moment later Tom and the couple, accompanied by two of the guardsmen, were speeding through the dark and empty streets of Venusport. The car was stopped once at a mid-town check point, and Tom had to repeat the password. They picked up another jet car, full of guardsmen as escorts, and with the echo of the exhausts roaring in the empty avenues, they sped to central Solar Guard headquarters.

Tom had never seen so many enlisted guardsmen in one spot before except on a parade ground. And he noted with a tinge of excitement that each man was in battle dress. Arriving at headquarters, they were whisked to the top floor of the building and ushered into Commander Walters' office. The commander smiled broadly as the young cadet stepped to the front of his desk and saluted smartly.

"Cadet Corbett reporting, sir," he said.

In a moment the office was filled with men; E. Philips James, the Solar Delegate, Captain Strong, fleet commanders, and officers of the line.

"Make your report, Cadet Corbett," said Walters.

Tom spoke quickly and precisely, giving full details on the location of the base, the approximate number of fighting ships, the armament of each, the location of supply dumps, and finally of Major Connel's plan to sabotage the radar at noon the following day. Then, one by one, each official asked him questions pertinent to their tasks. Fleet commanders asked about the ships' speed, size, armor; Strong inquired about the stores and supporting lines of supply; Walters asked for the names of all people connected with the movement. All of these questions Tom answered as well as he could.

"Well, gentlemen," said Walters, "thanks to Corbett and the others on this mission, we have all the information we need to counter the Nationalists. I propose to follow Major Connel's plan and attack the base at noon tomorrow. Squadrons A and B will approach from the south and east at exactly noon. Squadrons C, D, and E will come in from the north and west as a second wave at 1202. The rest of the fleet will go in from above at 1205. Supporting squadrons are now on their way from Earth and Mars. Blast off at six hundred hours. Spaceman's luck!"

"Good work, Tom," said Strong, when the conference broke up.

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "But I can't help worrying about Roger and Astro and Major Connel. What's going to happen to them, sir?"

Strong hesitated. "I don't know, Tom. I really don't know."



CHAPTER 17

"What time is it, Astro?"

"Exactly eleven o'clock, sir."

"All set?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know what to do. Move out!"

Astro and Major Connel were crouched behind a pile of fuel drums piled near the communications and radar building in the heart of the Nationalists' base. Above them, the gigantic tree used as the radar tower rose straight into the Venusian morning sky.

After helping Tom to escape, Astro had returned to the prison building for Connel and was surprised to find the place surrounded by green-clad Nationalist guards. Rather than attempt to release Connel then, Astro hid and waited for the time set to wreck the radar communications of the enemy. During the second day, he had successfully eluded the many patrols looking for him. Once from a hiding place he overheard one of the men mention Connel. He took a daring chance and approached the patrol openly. Speaking the Venusian dialect, he learned that Connel had escaped. That news sent the cadet on a different game of hide-and-seek as he prowled around the base searching for the Solar Guard officer. He had found him hiding near the radar tower, and they spent the night close to the communications building waiting for the time to strike.

Their plan was simple. Astro would enter the building from the front, while Connel would enter from the rear. Astro would draw attention to himself, and while the guards inside the building were busy dealing with him, Connel would come upon them from behind, knock them out of action, and then destroy the radar equipment.

The two spacemen gave no thought to their own safety. They were concerned only with accomplishing their objective. Having no way of knowing whether Tom had made it back to Venusport or whether their destruction of the communications center would be of any value, they nevertheless had to proceed on the assumption that Tom had gotten through.

Astro crawled behind the drums and stopped twenty feet from the door to wait for several Nationalist officers to leave. They finally got into a jet car and roared away. Astro nodded to the major waiting to edge around to the rear and then headed for the main entrance.

Connel saw Astro making his way to the front door and hurried around to complete his part of the mission. He waited exactly three minutes, gripped his shock rifle firmly, and then crossed over to the rear of the building and stepped inside.

Once inside, the major found it difficult to keep from bursting into laughter. The large ground-floor room was a frenzy of brawling, yelling, shouting Nationalist guards trying to capture the giant cadet. Astro was standing in the middle of the floor, swinging his great hamlike fists methodically, mowing down the guards like tenpins. Two of them were on his back, trying to choke him, while others crowded in from all sides. But they could not bring the cadet down. Astro saw Connel, shook himself, and stood free.

"Stand back!" roared Connel. "The first one of you green monkeys that makes a move will have his teeth knocked out! Now line up over there against the wall—and I mean fast!"

The sudden attack from the rear startled the Nationalist guards, and they milled around in confusion. There was no confusion, however, when Connel fired a blast over their heads. Astro grabbed a paralo-ray gun and opened up on the guards. A second later the squad of Nationalists were frozen in their tracks.

Once the men were no further danger to them, Connel and Astro locked the front and rear doors and then raced up the stairs that led to the main radar and communications rooms on the second floor.

"You start at that end of the hall, I'll start here!" shouted Connel. "Smash everything you see!"

"Aye, aye, sir." Astro waved his hand and charged down the hall. He exploded into a room, firing rapidly, and an electronics engineer froze in a startled pose in front of his worktable. The big cadet gleefully swung a heavy chair across the table of delicate electronic instruments, and smashed shelves of vital parts, pausing only long enough to see if he had left anything unbroken. He rushed out into the hall again. At the other end he heard Connel in action in another room. Astro grinned. It sounded as if the major was having a good time. "Well," thought the big cadet, "I'm not having such a bad time myself!"