"Then why didn't Ross take care of him on the Moon?" asked Miles.

"He didn't land," replied Brett. "He kept going and made the whole trip without refueling that new unit of his. It's so good that he got back here still carrying half a tank of reactant."

"Well, you haven't any kick with me," asserted Miles. "I dumped that stuff in his tanks."

"Then how come he made it so fast?" growled Brett. "How come he made it at all?"

"How should I know?" snapped Quent. "Listen, Charley, lay off me. You might be able to order Ross around, but you don't scare me. And I don't think you have Ross fooled either."

"Never mind that now!" said Brett irritably. "We've got to line things up for the race. Listen! Ross left Luna City this morning for the hide-out. Here's what I want you to do. After you blast off—" Brett's voice dropped to a whisper and Quent's eyes opened with understanding, and then his rugged features broke out into a grin as Brett continued talking.

Finally Brett straightened up. "I'm going on out to Titan now to see if things are O.K. You got everything clear?"

"Everything's clear," said Quent. "And you know something, Charley? You have a nasty way about you, but you certainly know how to figure the angles. This is perfect. We can't miss."

"I love you too, sweetheart," said Brett sourly. He turned and hurried out of the ship. Just before he stepped on the slidewalk that would take him to the monorail station, he saw the three members of the Polaris unit leaving Kit Barnard's installation. He grinned and made a mocking salute to them in the darkness.

"So long suckers!" he called softly.



CHAPTER 7

"What!"

Quent Miles looked at Strong and then back at Roger. "You mean this jerk's going to ride with me?"

Roger Manning squared his shoulders and stuck out his chin. "Let's make the most of this, Miles," he said. "I don't like it any more than you do. I wouldn't like to be watched, either, if I had just crawled out from under a rock."

Strong suppressed a grin and then turned back to Quent. "That's the way it is, Miles. Commander Walters' orders. There's nothing that can be done now. Cadets Manning, Corbett, and Astro have been given these assignments because they have worked so closely on the race project, and, I might add, you couldn't ask for a better astrogator should you get into trouble."

"The day I'll ask for help from a kid still wet behind the ears is the day I'll stop flying," snarled Miles.

Strong shrugged. "You either consent to the regulations, or disqualify yourself from the race."

The spaceman's face turned a dusky red under his swarthy complexion. "All right, all right! If that's the way it is, that's the way we'll play it. But I'm warning you, Manning, stay away from me."

Strong glanced at his wrist chronograph. "You have five minutes before the blast-off, stand by." He shook hands with Roger. "Good luck, Roger, and be careful. And remember, Captain Miles has already proved himself a crackerjack spaceman. Don't interfere with him."

"Yes, sir," said Roger.

"Good luck, Miles," said Strong and offered his hand. Quent ignored it.

"Thanks for nothing," he sneered. "I know how much you want me to have."

"The best man wins," snapped Strong. He turned on his heels and left the black ship.

Quent Miles and Roger faced each other. "All right, Manning," said Miles after he had closed the air lock, "take your station. And remember I'm skipper of this ship."

"So what?" said Roger. "I'm still the monitor—!" He turned and swaggered away.

Miles watched him go, a crooked smile twisting his lips. "Make the most of it, Manning," he muttered under his breath.

* * * * *

"You will make two stops for refueling on your trip," Captain Strong called over the loud-speakers, as well as into the intercom connecting the three ships. "First fuel stop will be on Deimos of Mars and the second will be at Ganymede. You are to chart a direct course to each of them. Should an emergency arise, you will call for assistance on the special teleceiver and audioceiver circuits open to you, numbers seventeen and eighty-three. You are to circle each fueling stop three times before making a touchdown, and make a final circle around Titan when you arrive.

"Stand by to raise ship! And spaceman's luck!"

Strong turned and flipped on the intercom to the control tower. "All ready up there?" he called.

"All set, sir," replied the enlisted spaceman.

"All right, give them their orbits and blast-off time."

There was a slight pause, and then the gruff voice of the tower operator was heard over the loud-speakers and in the ships. "All ships will blast off on orbit forty-one ... raise ship at 18:51:35 ... stand by!"

There was a tense moment of silence while the seconds on the red hand of the astral chronometer slipped around the dial. Out on the field, the three ships were pointed toward the darkening afternoon skies. The first ship, nearest the tower, was Wild Bill Sticoon's ship, the Space Lance, painted a gleaming white. Strong could see Tom sitting beside the viewport, and across the distance that separated them, the Solar Guard officer could see the curly-haired cadet wave. He returned the greeting.

Next was the black ship with the red markings that had aroused so much comment. Strong searched the viewports for a sight of Roger but could not see him. Finally he looked over at Kit Barnard's red-painted Good Company. He knew Astro would be on the power deck, preferring to nurse the reactor than watch the blast-off.

And then Strong was conscious of the tower operator counting off the seconds. He would pick it up at ten minus. He gripped the intercom mike as Mike's voice droned in his ears.

" ... fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten...."

"Stand by to raise ships!" bawled Strong. He watched the sweep hand on the chronometer. "Blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one—zero!"

There was really very little to see. The three ships left Earth in a giant upheaval of thunderous noise and blazing red exhaust flames. The roar of the crowds was lost in the explosions of the rockets. And the greatest race in space was underway.

Strong raced up to the control tower and stood in front of the radar scanner to watch the course of the three vessels now blasting through the atmosphere. They were three white blips on the green surface of the glass scope, in perfect line, traveling at incredible speeds.

Strong turned to the enlisted spaceman. "Contact the ships and see if everything's all right," he ordered.

"Very well, sir," replied the spaceman, turning to the audioceiver microphone.

"Spaceport control to rocket ships Space Lance, Space Knight, and Good Company. Come in, please."

There was a crackling of static over the loud-speaker and then the calm voice of Tom filled the control tower. "This is Corbett on the Space Lance. Go ahead."

Strong took the microphone. "This is Captain Strong," he called. "How was your blast-off, Tom?"

"Smooth as silk, sir," replied the young cadet. "Wild Bill sends his greetings and says he'll take a three-inch steak instead of flowers when he wins."

"Tell him it's a deal." Strong laughed. "End transmission."

"See you on Titan, sir," said Tom. "End transmission."

Strong then spoke to Kit Barnard on the Good Company, but did not get a chance to speak to Astro. "He's down on the power deck, Steve," reported Kit. "He's watching that reactor as if it were a treasure chest."

"To him it is," said Strong. "Good luck, Kit."

"Incidentally," said Kit before signing off, "I heard that crack Wild Bill made about a steak. Better put my name on it!"

Strong then contacted Quent Miles' vessel. "Is Manning there, Miles?"

"Yeah, he's here. Dead asleep!" growled Miles. "I thought you said he was going to be a help."

Strong's face grew red. "Well, wake him up," he snapped.

"You come wake him up," said Miles, and then the speaker went dead.

"Control tower to Space Knight!" Strong called angrily. "Come in, Miles. Control tower to Space Knight!"

"Yeah. What do you want?" growled Miles over the vast distance of space that already separated the two men and that each second took them thousands of miles farther apart.

"I want to speak to Manning," demanded Strong. "And if you cut me off like that again, Miles, I'll have you before a Solar Guard court for violation of the space code, race or no race."

"I told you once," said Miles. "Manning is asleep. He sacked in right after we left the Academy. Now leave me alone, will you! I've got a race to win!"

"Very well, Miles," said Strong. "But for your sake, I hope Cadet Manning is asleep."

"End transmission," growled Miles, and again the speaker went dead.

"Trouble, Steve?"

Strong turned to see Commander Walters enter the control room.

"No, sir," said Strong. "I tried to contact Roger, but Quent Miles told me he's asleep."

"Asleep!" cried Walters. "But I thought you weren't going to put Manning with Miles."

"Astro wanted to go with Kit, sir. And Tom was anxious to go with Wild Bill Sticoon. Roger didn't seem to mind."

"Did Miles object?"

"Yes, sir. But I think he would object to anyone going with him."

"And he told you Roger is asleep?"

Strong nodded. Walters pushed past him to the intercom and took the microphone. "This is Commander Walters calling rocket ship Space Knight. Come in, Space Knight."

There was a flutter of static and then Quent Miles' voice again. There was a little more respect in his tone but his story was the same. Roger was sleeping.

Walters slammed the microphone down. "By the craters of Luna, this is the last time I'll take this nonsense from Manning!" He jerked around and stood facing the viewport. "I'm sorry, Steve, but there have been more reports from Titan. The situation is serious. I've had to start evacuation. And then to get this smart-alecky behavior out of Manning. Well, you know what I mean."

Strong nodded, now more concerned about the emergency on Mars. "Shall I blast off right away, sir?" he asked.

Walters nodded grimly. "Yes. And I'm going with you. I'll leave Major Connel in charge while I'm gone. I would prefer to have him go, but he's been working with Dr. Dale on some new idea about reinforcing the force field and I can't pull him off it. You and I will have to do what we can."

Strong turned to the tower operator and ordered the rocket cruiser Polaris readied for immediate space flight, concluding, " ... and have a full complement of Space Marines aboard. And I want Warrant Officer Mike McKenny as squad leader."

"Have you forgotten, sir?" interjected the enlisted spaceman who was taking Strong's orders. "Warrant Officer McKenny cannot take acceleration."

"All right, get—" Strong hesitated. "Get me Jeff Marshall, Professor Sykes' assistant."

Walters nodded. "Good idea. Jeff can take care of any lab tests we may have to make and also knows how to handle men. As a matter of fact," Walters continued, "if Jeff does well on this assignment I might put him up for a commission in the Solar Guard. He did well on that last trip into deep space during that trouble on Roald."

"Yes, sir," said Strong. "And I'll gladly endorse it."

"Is that all, sir?" asked the enlisted man.

"That's it, spaceman!" said Strong. When the man didn't move right away, Walters and Strong looked at him. "Well, what is it?"

"Excuse me, sir," said the guardsman, a bright-faced youngster who had failed to pass the rigid requirements for cadet training and so had entered the enlisted Solar Guard. "I heard what Captain Miles said about Cadet Manning being asleep and—" He hesitated.

"Well, what about it?" prompted Walters.

"Well, sir, I don't know if it means anything or not," replied the boy nervously. "But just before the ship blasted off, I saw Cadet Manning standing inside the air lock. He looked as if he wanted to get out. But you were counting the blast-off time, sir. And he disappeared a few seconds before you hit zero."

Strong looked at Walters. "Are you sure?" he asked the boy.

"I'm positive, sir. I know Cadet Manning well, and he looked as though he was scared."

Strong clenched his fists. "Asleep, huh?" he growled. "Get me the Space Knight!"

The boy returned to the audioceiver and began calling Miles, but there was no reply. After a few minutes Walters interrupted, "We can't waste any more time here, Steve. We've got to blast off!"

"Get hold of Corbett on the Space Lance," said Strong to the spaceman. "Tell him I said to get in touch with Manning on the Space Knight. Ask him to find out what's going on."

"Yes, sir."

"And then tell him to contact me on the Polaris. We're blasting off immediately."

"Very well, sir."

Walters turned to Captain Strong. "What do you think it means, Steve?" he asked.

"I can't figure it, sir. Knowing Manning as I do, it could be a crazy stunt or it could be serious."

"It had better be serious," said Walters grimly, "for Manning's sake. One more slip, and I'm bouncing him right out of the Academy!"

The two officers left the control tower, leaving young Oliver Muffin alone, droning his monotonous call to Tom Corbett, somewhere between Earth and Mars—a call that was to be the young cadet's first warning of treachery in deep space!



CHAPTER 8

"All clear ahead, Bill!"

Tom Corbett stood at the radarscope and watched the thin white line sweep around the face of the instrument. "Nothing in space but us!" he announced.

The veteran spaceman grunted and grinned at the curly-haired cadet he had grown to like and respect in the short time they had been together. Not only did Tom know how to handle a ship, spelling the pilot for a few moments to have a walk around the control deck, but he was good company as well. More than once, Tom had surprised the Martian spaceman with his sober judgment of the minor decisions Sticoon had to make in flight.

"Why don't you try to contact Manning again, Tom?" Sticoon suggested. "He might be awake now."

Tom grinned, but in his heart he did not think it very funny. It was no joke that Captain Strong had called him to contact Roger. And Tom was worried. So far, he had not been able to reach the blond-haired cadet. He settled himself in front of the communicator and began calling the black ship again.

"Rocket ship Space Lance to rocket ship Space Knight! Come in!"

He waited. Nothing but static and silence greeted him.

"Space Knight, come in!"

He waited again as the sleek white ship plummeted deeper into space toward the first refueling stop on Deimos, one of the small twin moons of Mars. Still there was no acknowledging reply from the black ship that had streaked ahead of them after the blast-off.

"I'm going to try to contact Kit Barnard," said Tom. "Maybe he can pick up Miles' blip on his radar."

Tom made the necessary adjustment on the audioceiver and broadcast the call for the owner-pilot of the Good Company. Finally, after repeated tries, he heard a faint signal and recognized the voice of his unit mate Astro.

"What's the matter, Astro?" asked Tom. "I can hardly hear you."

"We're having trouble with the by-pass lines to the generators," replied Astro. "We've cut down to standard space speed, and Sid and Kit are making repairs now."

"Have you heard from Roger?" asked Tom across the vast abyss of space separating them. "I've been trying to contact the Space Knight for the last six hours and can't get any acknowledgment."

"Haven't seen it," replied Astro. "Lost contact with her a long time ago. She moved ahead at emergency space speed and we lost her on our radar an hour after we blasted off."

"O.K., Astro. Hope Kit gets his wagon going again. We've got to make a race of this, or the people throughout the system will be disappointed." He turned and winked at Wild Bill.

"Listen, you curly-haired twerp!" roared Astro, and it seemed to Tom that he could hear his friend without the loud-speaker. "We're going to give you the hottest run of your lives when we get going!"

"O.K., Astro," said Tom. "If you can contact Roger, tell him to get in touch with Captain Strong right away. He's probably blasted off on the Polaris by now."

"Right, Tom. End transmission."

"End transmission."

Tom turned back to the skipper of the Space Lance with a feeling of despair. "I can't figure it out, Bill," he said. "Roger's pulled some boners before, real rocket blasters, but refusing to answer a call from Strong—" He shook his head.

The audioceiver suddenly crackled into life. "Space Knight to Space Lance, check in!" Quent Miles' voice was harsh and clear.

Tom jumped back to the microphone. "Space Lance, Cadet Corbett here!" he shouted eagerly. "Go ahead, Space Knight! Where's Manning?"

"Still asleep!" replied Miles. "Just wanted to tell you boys good-by. I'm not stopping to refuel at Deimos! I'm going right on through to Ganymede! End transmission!"

Only static filled the control deck of the Space Lance as Tom clutched the microphone and pleaded desperately for Quent Miles to answer him. "Come in, Miles! This is Corbett on the Space Lance to Quent Miles on the Space Knight! Come in, Miles! Come in!"

Bill Sticoon shook his head. "Miles must be nuts trying to get to Ganymede without refueling," he muttered. "Traveling at emergency space speed, he'll eat up his fuel before he gets one third of the way to Jupiter!"

Tom looked at Sticoon. "And Roger's with him."

Sticoon nodded grimly. "They'll wind up drifting around in space halfway between Mars and Jupiter. Finding them will be about as easy as looking for a pebble in the Martian desert."

* * * * *

"Have you found the Space Lance yet, Astro?" asked Kit Barnard, glancing over his shoulder at the giant Venusian, standing at the radarscope.

"I think I'm getting it now," said Astro. "Either that or I've picked up an asteroid."

"Not likely," said Kit. "We're too far from the belt to have anything that big drifting around without being charted. It must be Sticoon."

"Boy!" chuckled Astro. "This reactor really packs a load of power!"

"How are we doing on fuel, Sid?" Kit called into the intercom.

"We lost a lot trying to prime the pumps," replied the young crew chief. "We have to touch down on Deimos and refuel."

"That's all right," replied Kit with a smile. "We're gaining on Sticoon fast. We should make Deimos about the same time. I wonder where Quent Miles is by now."

"Probably wishing he had stopped for fuel!" interjected Astro with a sour look on his face.

"See if you can pick up Sticoon on the audioceiver, Astro," said Kit. "Ask him for an estimated time of arrival on Deimos. One of us will have to come in first."

Astro flipped the switch on the panel and began his call "Good Company to Space Lance, come in!"

"Right here, Astro," replied Tom immediately. "Boy, you certainly are burning up space! What have you got in your fuel tanks? Light speed?"

"Just a little thing we whipped up," said Astro with a grin. "What is your ETA on Deimos, Tom?"

"Less than five minutes. Four minutes and thirty seconds, to be exact. Think you can beat that?"

"If we can't beat it, we can equal it!" said Astro. "See you on the Martian moon, buddy! End transmission!"

Steadily, the Good Company rocketed through space, eating up the miles and gaining on the Space Lance. Both ships now made contact with the control tower on Deimos and received landing instructions.

"Space Lance will touch down on Ramp Three, Good Company on Ramp Six," crackled the voice of the Deimos tower operator, "and don't forget your approach orbits!"

"Have you heard from the Space Knight?" called Tom.

"Sorry, Space Lance," came the reply, "there has been no contact with Space Knight."

Tom began to feel the fingers of fear creeping up and down his spine. Quent Miles had carried out his plan of going on to Ganymede without refueling, threatening not only his own life, but Roger's as well.

Sticoon completed the three circling passes around Deimos and shouted to Tom over his shoulder. "Stand by, Corbett. We're ready to go in!"

Tom strapped himself into his acceleration chair and, watching the atmospheric altimeter, a delicate instrument that recorded their height above the surface of a heavenly body, began to call off the indicated figures.

"Five thousand feet, four, three—dropping too fast—compensate for lesser gravity—two thousand, one, five hundred, two hundred—" Tom braced himself and seconds later felt the impact of the ship settling stern first on the concrete ramp. "Touchdown," he sang out in a clear voice.

While Sticoon secured the control deck, closing the many switches and circuits on the master panel, Tom opened the air lock. Almost immediately, special-trained crews swarmed into the ship to refuel her and prepare her for the next lap of the race. Tom and Sticoon stepped out onto the spaceport of the tiny moon of Mars and gazed up at the red planet that loomed large over the horizon. As a transfer point for the great passenger liners that rocketed between Venusport, Atom City, and Marsopolis, the refueling station at Deimos was well staffed and expertly manned.

Standing at the air lock, Tom and Sticoon heard the blasting roar of the Good Company coming down in a fast, expert touchdown, and they hurried across the spaceport to greet their rivals.

When the air lock opened, Tom immediately began to kid Astro and Sid, while Sticoon and Kit Barnard compared flight notes. A Universal Stereo reporter rushed up with a small portable camera and conducted an interview that was to be telecast back to Earth. Both spacemen were reluctant to voice any predictions of the outcome of the race, but Tom noticed that Kit was smiling and seemed in good spirits. Tom, with all his worries about Roger, could not help but feel happy that the independent spaceman was proving his reactor.

A man in the uniform of a Solar Guard major appeared. He introduced himself as an official monitor of the race, appointed by Commander Walters, and asked them for a report.

"Captain Sticoon has followed all regulations, sir," said Tom.

"And Captain Barnard, Cadet Astro?" asked the officer.

"Same thing, sir," replied Astro. "Captain Barnard has followed the rules of the race exactly."

"Thank you," replied the officer and started to turn away.

"Any word from the Space Knight, sir?" Tom asked quickly.

"Nothing, Corbett," the officer replied. "We received the same message that Captain Miles would attempt to go on through to Ganymede without stopping here at Deimos for refueling."

"And you've heard nothing from him since, sir?" asked Astro.

"Nothing, why?" The officer looked at both of the boys sharply. "Anything wrong?"

"No, sir," said Tom. "It's just that Cadet Roger Manning is monitor on the Space Knight and we haven't been able to talk to him since we blasted off from Space Academy."

"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, Cadet Corbett," snapped the major. "I've heard of Cadet Manning's reluctance to stick to regulations. I suspect you will be hearing from him soon enough, when the ship runs out of fuel and starts drifting around in the asteroid belt. Those individualists always scream for help when they get in trouble."

"Yes, sir," said Tom stiffly.

"I already have a squadron of ships standing by to go to their assistance when they do send out a distress alert."

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "Will that be all, sir? Cadet Astro and I would like to have a bite to eat before we blast off again."

"Yes, that will be all, Corbett. Don't wander off too far." The major turned and walked toward the ships without another word.

"Wonder what's eating him?" said Tom.

"Never mind," said Astro. "Come on. Let's grab a bite while we have the chance."

They headed for the restaurant in the control building of the spaceport, but were recognized by the reporter of the stereo company who badgered them into stepping before the camera and making statements about the race. He tried to get the boys to commit themselves as to who they hoped would win, and to offer an opinion on what had happened to the Space Knight. But neither Tom nor Astro said anything but that the best man would win. There were the usual eager spectators too, thousands from the large cities on Mars who had taken the ferry rocket up to the spaceport to see the ships come in for refueling. As soon as Tom and Astro could tear away from the stereo reporter, they were mobbed by the onlookers who clamored for autographs. Finally the two cadets had to forego their meal and return to their respective ships to escape the wild demonstration.

Seated in his acceleration chair on the control deck of the Space Lance, waiting for Bill Sticoon to come aboard, Tom found his concern for Roger overriding his enthusiasm for the race. When Sticoon appeared and began to prepare the ship for blast-off, Tom went through the motions mechanically. The Space Lance was scheduled to leave first, with Kit Barnard following at the exact time interval of their arrivals. The Deimos tower operator's voice droned over the loud-speaker on the control deck of the Space Lance " ... minus five, four, three, two, one"—then the breath-taking pause before the climactic—"zero!"



The ship shot spaceward, rockets roaring loudly in the thin atmosphere of the small satellite. The next moment, before the horrified eyes of thousands of people, the Space Lance exploded a few miles above the ground.

Astro stood frozen at the viewport of the Good Company, his eyes glazed with shock as he watched the Martian ship disintegrate far above him. All he could do was mutter brokenly, "Tom ... Tom ..."



CHAPTER 9

"Blast off!"

Without any preliminaries, Kit Barnard's order sent the Good Company hurtling spaceward. Astro had just enough time to throw himself into an acceleration chair before the ship shot away from the Deimos spaceport toward the wreckage of the Space Lance.

"Braking rockets!" roared Kit. "Hit them hard, Sid."

The ship bucked under the force of the counter-acceleration, and the veteran spaceman fought to keep her under control. He snapped out another order. "Cut all rockets!"

The ship was suddenly quiet, hanging motionless in space in the middle of the still-twisting wreckage. The huge bank of atomic motors, the largest single unit on the ship, had already begun to swing around the small moon Deimos in an orbit, while other shattered remains of the once sleek ship began a slow circle around the motors themselves.

Astro was struggling into a space suit when Sid and Kit joined him in the air lock. Quickly the three spacemen clamped their space helmets closed and adjusted the oxygen nozzles. Then, after testing their suit intercoms, they closed the inner-portal air lock, reduced the air pressure, and opened the thick pluglike outer portal. They stared out at the gruesome spectacle of torn hull plates, twisted spars, and broken pieces of equipment floating gently in the velvet space, outlined against the reddish hue of the planet Mars.

"Astro! Kit!" shouted Sid through the suit intercom. "Look, there's Sticoon! Over there near that tube." Following Sid's pointing finger, Astro and Kit turned toward an exhaust tube that had been ripped in half by the explosion. The Martian spaceman's body floated next to it, limp and broken. Astro shuddered. If Sticoon was dead, then there was little hope for Tom. The big Venusian fought back tears.

Maneuvering themselves away from the ship with the aid of the small jet packs strapped to their shoulders, they reached the dead spaceman. Sid carried him back to the ship while Astro and Kit remained to search the wreckage for Tom.

By now, three small jet boats and two rocket scouts had blasted off from Deimos, bringing emergency rescue equipment. More than a dozen men poured out of the ships and joined in the search. The work was carried on in silence. No one spoke.

Astro and Kit worked side by side, pushing their way gently through the twisting mass that was once a proud spaceship, to the heart of the spiraling wreckage, down toward the bank of atomic motors that was attracting all the lesser pieces. Suddenly Astro paled. He gripped the veteran's arm and gestured toward a large section of the ship on the other side of the motors that they had not seen before.

"By the stars," Kit gasped, "it's the air lock! All in one piece!"

"If Tom managed to get in there, or if he was in there when the ship exploded, maybe he has a chance."

"You're right, Astro," said Kit hopefully.



"But we can't open it out here," said Astro. "If Tom is inside, we have to take it down to Deimos. If we open it here, and he doesn't have a space suit on, he'd suffocate."

"He'd freeze solid before that," said Kit, not mentioning the possibility that Tom might very well be frozen already, since the ship's heating units had been torn away from the air lock.

Quickly Astro hailed the members of the emergency crews that had rocketed up from Deimos and told them of the possibility that Tom was inside the chamber. They all agreed, since they had failed to find the cadet anywhere.



Kit and Astro immediately took charge of getting the bulky boxlike chamber back to Deimos where it could be opened safely. Two of the jet boats were jockeyed into position on either side of the chamber and several lengths of cable were stretched between them, forming a cradle for the chamber. Since the jet boats were equipped with foldaway wings, which, when extended, would enable them to fly at slower speed through atmosphere, they hoped to make a glider landing at the Deimos spaceport.

Astro would not let anyone handle the boats but Kit and himself, and only by threat of physical violence was he able to keep the regular pilots out of the control chairs on the speedy little ships. He might suffer for it later when the officers reported his actions, but the big Venusian was beyond caring. If Tom was not safe inside the vacuum chamber, he felt there wasn't much use in being a cadet any longer. Fleetingly he thought of Roger, who didn't stand a chance of reaching Ganymede on a single solo hop from Earth in a ship the size of the Space Knight. The Polaris unit seemed doomed.

With Kit Barnard in one jet boat, Astro strapped himself into the control chair of the other, and intercoms on, they gently fed power into their ships. Coordinating perfectly in their maneuvers, they headed back to the spaceport with their strange cargo.

Slowly and gently, Kit and Astro circled lower and lower until the two jet boats were directly over the Deimos spaceport. They circled wide and shut off power together, coming down in a long, easy glide. Keeping the cables taut between them, so the chamber wouldn't touch the concrete strip, the two spacemen made perfect landings, coming to a stop directly in front of the control tower. Astro was out of his ship in a flash and almost immediately Kit was beside him. They took no notice of the stereo reporter who was focusing his camera on their efforts to force open the portal on the chamber. Nor did they notice the immense crowd, standing behind police lines, watching and waiting in silence.

"A cutting torch!" bellowed Astro to the emergency crew below. "Get me a cutting torch."

In an instant the torch was handed to him, and ripping the space gloves off his hands, the big cadet began cutting into the tough metal side of the chamber.

The seconds ticked into minutes. The crowds did not move, and only the low comments of the stereo reporter talking over an interplanetary network could be heard above the hiss of the torch as Astro bent to his task. A half hour passed. Astro didn't move or turn away from the blinding light of the torch as he cut into the section of the chamber where the portal locks would be. He did not notice that the Good Company and the emergency fleet had returned to the spaceport, nor that Sid was now beside him with Kit.

An hour passed. It seemed to the big cadet that the metal he was cutting, alloyed to protect spacemen against the dangers of the void, was now threatening to cost Tom's life, if indeed he still survived. No one could live long under such conditions unless they had a fresh supply of oxygen. Kit tried to take the torch away from Astro, but the giant Venusian would not let him have it. Again and again, the tanks of fuel supplying the torch were emptied and quickly replaced with fresh ones.

There was something awe-inspiring about the big cadet as he crouched over the torch, its white-hot flame reflected in his grim features. Everyone around him watched in silent fascination, aware that this was a rare exhibition of devotion toward a comrade. They all were certain that Astro would reach Tom—or die in the attempt.

* * * * *

"Touchdown!" Captain Strong called into the ship's intercom. "Secure stations."

The rocket cruiser Polaris had just settled on the blast-stained concrete of the Titan spaceport after a blazing flight nonstop from Earth. A Solar Guard cruiser, the most powerful class of spaceship in the Solar Alliance, the Polaris was also equipped with hyperdrive, a well-guarded secret method of propulsion, enabling Solar Guard ships to travel through space faster than any other craft known. Many commercial shipping companies, including those entered in the race to Titan, had pleaded for the use of hyperdrive on their ships but were summarily refused. It was one of the strongest weapons in the entire Solar Alliance.

As Commander Walters released the straps holding him securely in his acceleration chair and stepped up beside Strong, the Solar Guard captain gestured toward the teleceiver screen on the bulkhead.

"We're being met by the local officials, sir," he said.

"Ummm," was the commander's laconic reply as he studied the screen. "There's Captain Howard."

"He doesn't look any too happy, sir," commented Strong.

"How would you feel if you had just spent seven years building up the mine operations here on Titan and then have something like this happen to you?"

Strong shook his head. "You're right, sir. I forgot that Howard asked for this duty."

"It's strange how a man will take to a place," mused Walters. "The first time he returned to the Academy, after a tour of duty here on Titan, he looked like a man who had just fallen in love." Walters chuckled. "And in a way I guess he had. He put in for immediate permanent duty here and went back to school to learn all about the mining operations. He, more than anyone else in the Solar Guard, is responsible for our success here."

"Well, are you ready to leave the ship, sir?" asked Strong.

"Yes," replied the commander, but he continued to stare at the teleceiver screen. Strong waited respectfully and finally Walters turned back to him, shaking his head. "The spaceport looks pretty deserted," was his only comment.

Strong had already noticed the desolate appearance of the ordinarily buzzing spaceport and it troubled him more than he would show. He knew that unless the defect in the force fields was corrected soon, the outer-space colony would have to be abandoned to the deadly methane ammonia atmosphere. And to Strong, who had seen the dead satellite before the Solar Guard had discovered crystal there, it was like seeing an old friend sick with a deadly disease. In addition, the hundreds of thousands of colonists would have to be relocated if the force fields could not be repaired and the effect on the economy of the whole Solar Alliance would be disastrous.

Walters and Strong were met at the air lock by Captain Howard. "I'm awfully glad to see you, sir," he said, coming to attention and saluting smartly. "Hello, Steve. Welcome to Titan."

"Glad to be here, Joe," said Strong.

"We came out as soon as we received your report that you had started evacuation," said Walters. "Have you discovered anything new?"

Howard shook his head. "Not a thing, Commander," he replied. "We've done just about everything but take the force-field projectors apart, but so far we haven't found a thing wrong."

"Any word on the race, Joe?" asked Strong.

Howard looked surprised. "By the stars, I almost forgot. One of the ships is trying to make it to Ganymede without stopping at Deimos for refueling. And another blew up."

Strong gasped. "Which one?"

"Space Lance," said Howard. "Exploded over Deimos right after blast-off. Knight is the one that's trying the long solo hop. Haven't received any word from him yet."

"But what about the crew of the Space Lance?" demanded Strong with a glance at Walters.

"The pilot, Sticoon, was killed, and they haven't found Cadet Corbett yet." And then understanding flashed in Howard's eyes. "Say, that's one of the boys in your unit, isn't it, Steve?" he asked.

"Yes," said Strong grimly. He turned to Walters. "Have I your permission to contact Deimos for the latest details, sir?"

"Of course, Steve. Go ahead."

Strong turned quickly and climbed into a nearby jet boat. The enlisted spaceman at the controls sent the tiny vessel skimming across the broad expanse of the spaceport toward the control tower.

Walters and Howard watched him leave. "I hope nothing has happened to that boy," said Walters. "Corbett is one of the finest cadets we have."

"I'm afraid it doesn't look too good, sir," Howard answered.

"Well, what about the other ship, Space Knight?" asked Walters. "Cadet Manning is on that one. Any report on where they are?"

"Nothing, sir," replied Howard. "We just heard that he was by-passing Deimos and going on right through to Ganymede, hoping to get a jump on the other two."

"Did Cadet Manning make that report?" asked Walters.

"No, sir. It was the pilot. Quent Miles. There was no mention of Cadet Manning, sir."

Walters shook his head. "Certainly is strange," he mused aloud. Then he barked, in his usual brusque manner, "Well, we've got this problem here to worry about now. All mining operations have stopped, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir. The men won't work unless they have a guarantee that their wives and children are safe."

"Can't blame them," said Walters, surveying the quiet spaceport.

The two Solar Guard officers climbed into another waiting jet boat and shot away from the Polaris toward the tower.

Inside the shimmering crystal control tower, Steve Strong paced up and down behind the enlisted spaceman trying to contact the Deimos spaceport across the millions of miles of space.

"This is Titan spaceport calling Deimos spaceport! Come in, Deimos spaceport."

There was a flood of static, and then, very faintly, the voice of the tower operator on Deimos answered. "This is Deimos spaceport. Go ahead, Titan."

"Transmitting request for information by Captain Steve Strong of the Solar Guard," the Titan operator called into the microphone. "Information concerning explosion of rocket ship Space Lance. Please give details on survivors."

There was a momentary pause and the loud-speaker crackled with static. The voice of the Deimos operator broke through. "Captain Sticoon dead. Cadet Corbett believed trapped in air-lock chamber. They have just cut through the chamber. It will be a few minutes before I can give you any further information."

"Very well, Deimos. I will hold this channel open."

Walters and Howard entered the room. "Any word, Strong?" asked the commander. Strong shook his head.

The loud-speaker over the control panel crackled into life again. "Ganymede station to Titan spaceport! Come in, Titan!"

The three Solar Guard officers looked at each other in surprise as the Titan operator acknowledged the call. "This is Titan. Go ahead, Ganymede."

"We have just received word that the rocket ship Space Knight is within five minutes of a touchdown this spaceport. Will probably blast off again immediately after refueling. Acknowledge, Titan!"

"I read you, Ganymede!" replied the Titan operator.

"What is your estimated time of arrival at Titan?"

The Ganymede operator was silent a moment, then announced a time that made Strong and Walters blink in amazement. "It is based on his speed from Earth to this point, Titan."

"Very well, Ganymede. End transmission," said the Titan man, closing his key.

Captain Howard stared at Strong and Walters in amazement. "I can't believe it." Strong shook his head. "It's fantastic!"

"I know it is, gentlemen," said a voice in back of them. "But nevertheless the Ganymede station confirms it."

Strong, Walters, and Howard spun around to look into the smiling face of Charley Brett.

Before anyone could say anything, the voice of the Deimos operator broke the stunned silence. "Deimos to Titan, I have your information now. Are you ready, Titan?"

"Go ahead, Deimos," said the Titan man.

And then, as Strong held his breath, the metallic voice from the loud-speaker reported on the final result of the tragic explosion over Deimos.



CHAPTER 10

" ... Chamber was cut open and Cadet Corbett was rushed to the spaceport's sick bay...."

As the metallic voice of the Deimos tower operator continued his report of the tragic crash of the Space Lance, Strong and Walters sighed with relief. At least Tom was not dead!

"He is still in a state of shock, but after a preliminary examination, the medical officer reports that he will recover. That is all the information I have at this time, Titan. End transmission." The loud-speaker was silent except for the continuous flow of static.

"By the stars," breathed Strong, "I'm sure glad to hear that."

Walters put his arm around the captain's shoulder. "I'm glad too, Steve. I know how you feel about those three boys."

"And that Astro," said Strong, beaming. "Wouldn't you know he'd be the one to rescue Tom." He paused and then continued thoughtfully, "You know, sir, with the exception of Manning, I'd be willing to recommend Solar Guard commissions for the unit right now."

Walters snorted. "Manning! By the stars, he could be the best astrogator in the universe, but—but he's so undisciplined."

"Excuse me, sir," the enlisted spaceman interrupted. "Here is a transcript of the report from Deimos if you care to have it."

"Thank you," said Walters, putting it into his pocket. "Well, Steve, I guess we'd better start to work here." He turned to the Titan senior officer who had been waiting respectfully.

"Ready, Captain Howard?"

"Yes, sir."

"Lead on, then," said Walters.

As the three officers turned to leave the control tower, they noticed Charley Brett sitting near the door. In the excitement of the news of Tom's narrow escape, they had forgotten the company owner was there.

Strong stopped and looked at him coldly. "What are you doing on Titan, Brett?"

"Came on ahead to welcome the winner," Brett replied easily, not even bothering to stand.

"Pretty confident your man will win, eh?"

"Most assuredly," said Brett with elaborate sarcasm. "I would never have entered a ship in the race if I didn't think I would win. Though, in all fairness, I think I should have received the contract to haul the crystal without this extra effort."

"What kind of reactant is Quent Miles using in that ship of yours?" asked Walters sharply.

Brett smiled. "The same as everyone else, Commander."

"What about your feeders?" asked Strong. "With ordinary reactant, and no new cooling units aboard your ship, you must have oversized feeders to make such fantastic speeds."

Brett shrugged and held out his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I don't even know myself, Captain Strong," he said blandly. "It's one reason why I have Quent Miles piloting for me. He has a few tricks that apparently are quite effective."

"I hope they are legitimate tricks, Mr. Brett," said Walters. "Let's go, Steve."

The three officers turned away and left Brett sitting there, smiling triumphantly.

"I think we'd better start from the beginning in our inspection of the screens, Captain Howard," said Walters, as the three officers left the control tower and walked across the spaceport. "First of all, I want a twenty-four-hour watch placed on all operational centers, pump houses, and generator plants. I cannot discount the idea of sabotage. Why anyone would want to wreck the screens is beyond me, but we cannot ignore the possibility."

"I already have men stationed at the main operational centers, sir," replied Howard. "Your Space Marines will help me cover the rest."

"Steve," said Walters, turning to the Solar Guard officer, "if this is a natural phenomenon—some new element in Titan's atmosphere breaking down the force screens—the problem is bad enough. But if this is caused by man—if it really is sabotage—we'll have a doubly hard time. We can find the reason eventually, if it is natural, but man can conceal his reasons. And until we find out the motives behind this we must count on the situation getting worse. I want you to pursue that line of investigation. Find out if anyone has a good reason to force the abandonment of Titan."

"It's a big order, sir," said Strong. "I'll do the best I can."

"That's good enough for me," replied the commander, nodding his satisfaction.

* * * * *

"Any word, sir?" asked Astro eagerly as the white-clad medical officer emerged from the room.

The man smiled. "Thanks to you, Cadet Astro," he replied, "your friend will be able to leave as soon as he gets his pants on."

"Yeow!" bawled Astro in his famous bull-like bellow. "Thanks, sir. Thanks a million!" He turned and wrenched open the sick-bay door, almost splintering it in his enthusiasm. Tom was just sitting up on the side of the bed.

"Hiya, Astro!" called Tom with a weak grin. "The sawbones tells me I owe you a brand-new shiny credit piece for saving my life."

His enthusiasm at high pitch, Astro was nevertheless unable to do more than smile broadly at his unit mate. "Only reason I did it," he said.

"All right, here you are." Tom handed over a coin. "That's all I thought my chances were worth."

At that moment the Solar Guard major in command of the Deimos spaceport entered, followed by Kit Barnard and Sid. After greeting Tom with enthusiasm that matched Astro's, Kit and Sid stood to one side quietly and listened while Tom gave his preliminary report to the major who held a recorder microphone in front of him.



"I heard a terrific noise on the power deck as soon as we blasted off," Tom began. "And Captain Sticoon ordered me to go below and check on it. I saw the trouble right away. The lead baffles around the reactant chambers had become loose and the reactant was spilling out, starting to wildcat. I called Bill over the intercom right away and he ordered me to get into a space suit and wait for him in the air lock. I heard him shut off the generators—but that's all. The reactant blew and I must've been knocked cold, because the next thing I remember was this big ugly face bending over me ordering me to wake up." Tom grinned at Astro.

"I see," mused the major aloud. "Now about the baffles. How could they have worked loose? Do you think the lock bolts gave way in the excessive heat due to the intense blast-off speed?"

"No, sir," said Tom firmly. "Those bolts were loosened. I distinctly remember seeing one of them fall to the deck as I walked in."

"Then you suspect that the ship was sabotaged?"

"That's not for me to say, sir," said Tom after a moment's hesitation. "In all my experience, I have never seen one of those bolts work loose of its own accord or because of heat or vibration on the power deck." He glanced at Astro, who was hunched forward, listening intently. "Have you, Astro?"

The big Venusian shook his head slowly. "Never," he said.

"Well, thank you, Corbett, that will be all for now," said the major and then turned to Kit. "I want to congratulate you, sir, on your sacrifice in going to the aid of the Space Lance."

"Wild Bill would have done the same thing for me," said Kit without emotion. "Do I have permission to continue the race now?"

The major was startled. "You mean you still want to go on?"

"Every cent I have is tied up in my ship and in this race, sir," said Kit. "I have my new reactor unit working properly now, and I believe that I still have a chance."

"But you've lost hours, man," protested the major.

"I can make them up, sir," said Kit. "Am I permitted to carry on?"

The major was flustered, but nodded his head. "By all means. Yes, indeed! And spaceman's luck to you."

"I'd like to make the trip with him if he'll have me, sir," said Tom, getting off the bed. "I'm all right. The doctor said so."

"But—but—but you need rest, Cadet Corbett," said the major. "No, I can't permit it."

Just at that moment the medical officer walked in.

"So far as I'm concerned," he said, looking at Tom, "he's a lot healthier than you are, sir. With all due respect, sir."

"Very well, then," shrugged the major. "Carry on! Do as you please!" Shaking his head in confusion, the major left the room.

"Well," said Kit Barnard, stepping forward, a big smile on his face, "what are we waiting for?"

* * * * *

"Minus five, four, three, two, one—zero!"

The spaceship Good Company shot away from the small moon of Mars and thousands of eyes at the spaceport followed it into the heavens, watching its blazing track disappear into the depths of space. If sympathy and good wishes could decide the race to Titan, the spaceship Good Company was a certain winner.

Aboard the sleek craft, Tom Corbett relaxed after the tremendous blast-off acceleration and turned to look at the tense face of Kit Barnard who was seated in the pilot's chair.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Kit?" said Tom. "I can take this baby over. It's the least I can do for all you've done for me."

"Thanks, Tom, but I'll stay with it awhile longer," replied the veteran spaceman. "At least until we find out where the Space Knight is."

Tom suddenly remembered the trouble with Roger.

"Has there been any news of them at all?" he asked.

"The last thing we heard was that he was approaching Ganymede. And that was a few hours ago, when you were trapped in the air-lock chamber."

"Ganymede!" Tom was thunderstruck. "But—but—how did he do it?"

Kit shook his head. "I don't know, Tom, but he sure has some speed in that black ship of his."

"Ganymede!" Tom repeated in bewilderment. It was beyond belief. The Polaris, using hyperdrive, could scarcely have made the flight any faster. Tom felt his heart sinking. The hope that Kit Barnard could catch the black Space Knight was faint now.

"Shall I call Ganymede again and see if they have anything new?" Tom asked finally.

"Yes, do that, Tom," Kit replied.

The curly-haired cadet quickly climbed the ladder to the radar bridge and sat wearily in front of the teleceiver.

"Spaceship Good Company to Ganymede spaceport," he called. "Come in, Ganymede."

Seconds later, the voice of the Ganymede control operator crackled over the loud-speaker in reply. "Ganymede station to Good Company. Go ahead."

"Can you give me any information on the departure time of Space Knight from Ganymede?"

"She has not blasted off yet. She is having trouble in her after burners."

"How long do you estimate it will take for her to effect repairs and blast off?" asked Tom, a note of rising hope in his voice. While the black ship had made it to Ganymede under full power without refueling, the strain might have damaged her seriously. Tom waited patiently for the reply, drumming his fingers on the table in his excitement.

"Not more than sixteen hours, Good Company," the Ganymede operator finally answered. "Where are you now?"

Tom quickly ascertained his position and relayed it to the tiny Jovian-moon station. "Space sector fourteen, chart B for baker." After the metallic voice had repeated the information, Tom asked for information on Roger Manning.

"No such person has reported to this office, Cadet Corbett," came the negative reply. "End transmission."

"End transmission," said Tom gloomily and slumped back into his chair. Something had happened to Roger, or he had completely blown his top. And in the light of past performances by the blond-haired radar expert, Tom could not decide which. Roger had threatened many times that if he should ever leave the Academy, he would do it quietly, without fanfare.

There was no better place to drop out of sight than on Ganymede, for it was here that the deep spacers, gigantic spaceships that hauled supplies to the colonies of Alpha Centauri, Tara, and Roald made their last stop. If Roger had finally made good his threat to leave the Academy, Ganymede was the logical place to do it.

But why?



CHAPTER 11

"Yeow!"

Astro's bull-like roar echoed through the Good Company. Tom and Kit jumped around in their seats to stare dumfounded at the half-stripped cadet climbing through the hatch into the power deck, followed by Sid. Sweating, his body streaked with grease, the belt of rocketman's tools swinging from his hips, Astro pounded the two spacemen on the back. "We did it!" he roared, turning to hug Sid who was equally grimy and naked to the waist.

"Did what?" demanded Kit.

"You know that by-pass feeder you said wouldn't hold a pressure of more than D-18 rate?" said Astro eagerly.

When Kit nodded, Astro roared triumphantly, "Well, it'll hold more than D-18 rate now!"

"What do you mean?" demanded Kit.

Astro's involved and detailed reply in engineering terms was almost gibberish to Tom, but he understood enough of the unit construction to sense that Astro had done something extraordinary.

"And he did it all himself, too," said Sid quietly. "I didn't do any more than hold the tools."

"But I still don't understand," protested Kit. "The by-pass won't take more than D-18."

"We built another one," said Astro proudly. "Since you were making a small unit, you naturally built a small by-pass feeder. We made a big one." Astro grinned. "I admit that it looks a little lopsided, with that tank joint on the side nearly twice as big as the whole cooling unit, but if you'll cut your motors and give me fifteen minutes to change that line, I'll give you a reactant feed at D-30 rate."



"D-D-30," stammered Kit. "You're space happy!" He glanced over at Sid. "Is that right, Sid?" he asked, almost hesitantly.

The youth nodded. "It'll work, Kit. And believe me, I didn't have a thing to do with it. It was his idea and I thought he was nuts too. But he can holler louder than I can and—well, he's bigger'n I am and—" Sid shrugged his shoulders. "He went and did it."

"I want to see that thing for myself!" exclaimed Kit, jumping out of his seat. "Take over for a while, Tom."

Tom slid under the controls of the sleek ship, and while Astro, Sid, and Kit went below to the power deck, he began to figure their speed at a D-30 rate. He used a pencil at first, scribbling on a piece of paper, but the answer he reached was so fabulous, he put the ship on automatic gyro control and climbed to the radar deck where he checked the figures on the electronic calculator. When the result was the same, he let out a whoop.

When he returned to the control deck again, Astro, Kit, and Sid were already working the master control panel, adjusting some of the controls to take the enormous increase in speed. Kit grinned up at Tom. "Here we go, Tom," he said. "This is going to be the fastest ride you've ever had next to hyperdrive."

"Then it really works?" yelled the cadet.

"It not only works, but from the looks of that thing, we'll use very little more fuel. So now it's our turn to by-pass a fuel stop! We're going right on through to Titan!"

* * * * *

"You're whistling into the wind, Barnard!" Quent Miles' voice was harsh and derisive as it crackled over the audioceiver. "You could never catch up with me in a hundred light years! This race is in the bag for yours truly!"

Across the vast distance of space that separated the two speeding ships, Tom, Astro, and Kit Barnard listened to Miles' bragging voice and smiled at each other. All Kit ever wanted was a fair chance, and now, thanks to Astro and Sid, he had better than a fair chance. With their added speed, Tom calculated that the two ships would arrive at the Titan spaceport at about the same time. Only scant minutes separated their estimated times of arrival.

"How much farther do you think that wagon of yours will hold out, Barnard?" continued Miles over the audioceiver. "You'll burn it up or shake it apart. This race is in the bag!"

"All right, Miles," interrupted Tom. "We'll do our talking at the Titan spaceport. Now let me talk to Roger."

"You mean, Manning?" asked Miles, after an almost imperceptible pause.

"Yes, I mean Manning!" snapped Tom.

"Can't oblige, Corbett," said Quent Miles. "Your pal took it on the lam back at Ganymede. He ran out on me. As far as I know, he's still there. Didn't you see him when you stopped for refueling?"

"We didn't stop," said Tom. "What do you mean, he got off at Ganymede? He's supposed to stay with you throughout the race."

"I gotta go now, Corbett," came Miles' abrupt reply. "I'm hittin' rough stuff here, a swarm of meteors. See you on Titan. Be down there to welcome you in."

"Wait! What about Roger?" Tom called frantically into the audioceiver, but Quent Miles did not answer. The young cadet slammed the microphone down on the table. "That blasted Roger!" he cried hotly. "When I get my hands on him, I'm going to—"

"Take it easy, Tom," said Astro, putting a hand on the cadet's shoulder. "You know how Roger is. Wait until he has a chance to explain before you blast him."

"I suppose you're right, Astro," replied Tom. "But why in the stars would he leave the ship?"

"Whatever he's done, I'm sure Roger has a good explanation," replied the big Venusian. But inwardly he couldn't help feeling that Roger, somehow, had gotten into another scrape which would, in the end, reflect on the whole unit. Neither Tom nor Astro cared much for their own individual reputations, but they were concerned about the record of the unit. Roger had managed to pull himself out of some narrow scrapes, but there was always the first time for everything. Leaving his post as monitor in the race was as serious as anything he had done so far.

"Heads up, Tom!" Kit called out. "Meteor storm in our course. We've got to change our heading."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the young cadet, pushing aside his concern over his unit mate and concentrating on routine flight operations.

On and on, the sleek ship plummeted through the black depths of space beyond Jupiter, heading for the planet Saturn and her magnificent rings of different colors, and to her largest satellite with its deadly methane ammonia gas atmosphere, the crystal-bearing moon, Titan.

* * * * *

"They are approaching the spaceport, sir," called the Titan control-tower operator, and Strong jumped to the radarscope to stare at the two blips on the screen. Only a mile separated them, with Quent Miles' Space Knight ahead.

"Five minutes to touchdown," reported the operator.

"Come on, Kit," muttered Strong through clenched teeth. "Pour it on, boy. Give her the gun!"

The two blips drew closer to the heart of the scope. First one and then the other shooting ahead for brief seconds as they began deceleration.

"You can see them outside, now, sir," said the operator, and Strong jumped to the door, stepping out on the observation platform that looked out over the spaceport. He searched the skies above him, and then, faintly, he could see the exhaust trails of the two ships as they streaked over the field, beginning their deceleration orbits around the satellite.

Behind him, Strong heard the voice of the tower operator ordering Ramp Four and Ramp Five cleared for the two ships, and the mobs of people on the spaceport surged back. Strong noted the irony of the situation. The people of Titan were not out to greet a hero of space, but were waiting for the next evacuation rocket ship.

The ramps were cleared and within minutes the two ships reappeared over the horizon, nosing upward over the spaceport in an arc, their braking rockets blasting loudly as they prepared to land.

Then, feeling that his heart would stop, Captain Strong saw Quent Miles' black ship touch the surface of the spaceport first. Kit Barnard had lost the race. By seconds to be sure, but he had lost the race.

A weak cheer arose from the crowds and then quickly died out. To them the race was futile and the prize empty. How could the winning company ship crystal, when soon, none would be mined?

Strong raced across the field and boarded the Good Company to find Kit, Tom, Astro, and Sid sitting glumly on the control deck. There was a quick smile of greeting on the two cadets' faces when they saw their unit commander, but their smiles died away. Abruptly Kit Barnard was on his feet looking past Strong to someone entering the hatch behind him.

"Congratulations, Quent!" said Kit, extending his hand. "That was a great race."

"Thanks," replied Miles. "But I never figured it would end any other way. You put up a great fight, Barnard. Yes, sir! A great fight!" He turned to Captain Strong and chortled. "Good race, eh, Strong?"

The Solar Guard officer shook hands with the winner and then asked, "Where is Cadet Manning?"

"Say, I want to make a complaint about that!" exclaimed Miles. He looked at Tom and Astro. "It was bad enough to have to be bothered with these kids, but when they behave the way that kid Manning behaved, I've got a right to be sore!"

"When did Manning leave the ship?" asked Strong.

"As soon as we made touchdown on Ganymede. He left the ship after sleeping all the way out, made a couple of nasty cracks, and the last I saw of him, he was heading over toward the deep-space section of the spaceport."

"You're sure of that?" asked Strong.

Quent Miles sneered. "I just said that's what happened, didn't I?"

"Yes, that's what you said," Strong replied. "And I'll have to take your word for it until Manning can answer for himself."

"How did you manage to make it from Earth to Ganymede without refueling, Quent?" asked Kit slowly. "And what have you got in your ship to get that kind of speed?"

Miles' lips curled in a twisted grin. "That's my secret, spaceman," he said, turning away. "Well, I've got to report to my boss. Great race, Kit. Too bad there couldn't be more than one winner." He laughed and swaggered out of the ship.

"I'd like to brain that guy," growled Tom.

"All right, Corbett, Astro, pack your gear and report to the control tower for reassignment," snapped Strong. He turned and with a nod of sympathy to Kit left the control deck.

"Let's go, Astro," sighed Tom. "We'll see you later, Kit. You too, Sid. And—" They looked at each other, but there was nothing more that could be said. The race was finished.

When Tom and Astro had finished packing their gear and left the ship, Sid turned to Kit. "I'm going to take a look at the Space Knight!" he announced.

"Better not, Sid." Barnard shook his head. "Miles is a rough customer. He might not like visitors around his 'secret' on the power deck."

Sid's face was set. "I'm going," he repeated and ducked through the hatch.

His face showing his disappointment at having lost the race, Kit paced the deck for a moment and then he strode purposefully toward the hatch, calling:

"Hey! Wait, Sid. I'm coming with you."

In the control tower at the far end of the spaceport, Tom and Astro entered the station commander's office in time to overhear the last of Commander Walters' orders to Captain Strong.

" ... might as well give the boys a rest before we begin our investigations, Steve." He looked up as the door opened. "Oh, here they are now."

"Cadets Corbett and Astro reporting, sir." Tom and Astro saluted smartly.

"Stand easy, boys," said Walters, rising to face them. "I don't know how much you've heard of this emergency on Titan, but you can be briefed on details later. For the moment, all you have to know is that your assignment here is concerned with a detailed checking-out of the whole force-screen machinery. Take a twenty-four-hour rest and then report back here ready for the hardest work you'll ever do in your lives."

"Yes, sir," said Tom.

"Where is Manning? Didn't he think it necessary to report to me?" Walters looked at Strong. "Well, Steve? It's your unit?"

"It seems he got off the Space Knight at Ganymede, sir," replied Strong reluctantly. "Captain Miles said the last he saw of Manning he was walking toward the deep-space section of the spaceport."

Walters' eyes suddenly became very bright and hard. "He got off, did he? Well," he snapped, "this is just about the end of the line for Cadet Roger Manning!"

"I'm sure Roger has a good explanation, sir—" began Tom.

Walters glared at the cadet. "None of that, Corbett. Manning is a bad rocket and the sooner I get rid of him the better off the Academy and the Polaris unit will be. Now take your twenty-four-hours' leave and report back here ready to work."

"Yes, sir," replied Tom. He and Astro saluted and turned to leave the office but were stopped by the sudden appearance of Sid and Kit. Sid's face was aglow. Kit was scowling.

"You know what we found on the Space Knight?" exclaimed Sid, unable to hold back.

"What?" asked Tom.

"Almost a full tank of reactant!" replied the young engineer. "And the after burners showed about as much wear as if the ship had jumped from Earth to Venus."

"What's that, young man?" snapped Walters, stepping forward quickly. "What are you talking about?"

Kit Barnard faced the commander and began to explain.

"We were both curious about Quent Miles' ship, sir," he said. "We wondered what kind of equipment he had to get that kind of speed, so we went aboard and looked her over. She looks as if she just made a routine flight. Hardly any of her baffling has been eaten away and her motors are cooling fast, and I'd swear by the stars there isn't anything on that ship to give her the kind of speed she made out here."

"Hm-m! There's something funny about this," mused Walters.

Strong stepped forward quickly. "Would you like me to investigate, sir?" he asked eagerly.

"Of course not," snapped Walters. "What's the matter with you? We've got a whole planet full of people about to lose their homes and you want to take time off to investigate pure speculation!"

"I'm sorry, sir." Strong's face flushed at the rebuke.

"Carry on! Work with Joe Howard."

"Yes, sir."

Strong saluted and started for the door. He passed Tom, Astro, Sid, and Kit without so much as a glance. His jaw was set like a rock.

Tom Corbett shuffled uncomfortably, embarrassed at the rebuke Strong had just suffered from Walters. It was not like the commander to flare up so quickly. The situation on Titan must be extremely serious. He and Astro ducked out of the room quickly.

"Come on, Astro," muttered the young cadet. "Let's get a bite to eat. I'm starved."

"I was," said the giant Venusian. "But I lost my appetite."

"Boy, do I wish I had Roger here now!"

"Yeah, me too!"



CHAPTER 12

Olympia, the largest colony on Titan, was gripped by a wave of fear. The broad streets were empty; the shops and stores were deserted; and the population waited in line at the spaceport, with their most valuable belongings, for their turn to leave the threatened settlement. Slowly the satellite of Saturn was dying, and through the methane ammonia atmosphere, the glittering rings of the mother planet shone down on her death struggle.

Tom Corbett and Astro walked through the streets silently, overcome by the desolation around them. Many parts of the city were completely abandoned, and the few remaining citizens wore cumbersome oxygen masks as the deadly atmosphere of gas seeped through the force field to reach the ground surface of the satellite.

As the two cadets continued their dismal tour, they could only find one small restaurant open, a self-service food center that required no help. They were the only customers. During the meal they hardly talked, as they watched the slow procession of people outside, heading for the spaceport.

When the two cadets left the restaurant, a jet car suddenly blasted to a stop beside them and a master sergeant, dressed in the scarlet red of the enlisted Solar Guard, jumped out to face them.

"All persons are required to wear oxygen masks, Cadets," the sergeant announced, handing over two masks. "And I would suggest that you leave this section of the city as quickly as possible. The screens are leaking badly again. We may have to close off this section too."



Tom and Astro took the masks but did not put them on.

"Thanks, Sergeant," said Tom. "But we'll probably be around here for some time. We're on special duty with Commander Walters and Captain Strong."

At the mention of Strong's name, the sergeant started, looked at the boys closely, and then smiled. "Say, aren't you Corbett and Astro?"

"That's right," acknowledged Tom.

"Well, don't you remember me?" asked the sergeant.

Tom looked at him closely and then smiled in sudden recognition. "Morgan! Phil Morgan!" he cried.

"Of course," chimed in Astro.

"Sure," said the sergeant. "We went through our first test together at the Academy and I washed out."

"And you became an enlisted man!" exclaimed Tom. "Man, you're a real space buster!"

"I figured if I couldn't get into space one way, I'd do it another," said Morgan proudly. "A lot of times I wished I was still a cadet with you, but now I don't think I'd change it for anything in the world."

"I can believe that," said Tom, smiling. "And a master sergeant at that! McKenny told us once it took a man nearly fifteen years to get top rating. It must really be a labor of love for you to have made it this quickly." He stuck out his hand. "Congratulations, Morgan."

They shook hands. "Well, I've got to get rolling," said Morgan. "I sure hope you fellows find out what's cooking here. I've got a lot of friends here and they stand to lose everything they own if Titan is abandoned."

"With Captain Strong on the job, you can bet we'll find out the trouble," declared Astro.

Morgan smiled. "See you around," he said, and jumped back into the jet car. A second later it was roaring down the street to the western part of the city.

"Boy, sure makes you feel good to know that a guy loves space so much that he would fight his way to the top of the enlisted guard as Morgan did!" said Tom.

Suddenly Astro jerked Tom by the sleeve and pulled him back into the restaurant to crouch behind the door.

"Hey, what's the matter with you?" growled Tom.

"Sh-h-h!" hissed Astro and pointed across the street. "Look!"

Tom poked his head around the corner of the doorway and quickly jerked it back again. Quent Miles was hurrying down the street.

"Wonder what he's doing around here?" whispered Astro, watching the black-clad spaceman pass directly opposite them and continue down the street, seemingly unaware that he was being watched.

"He must be heading for the evacuated section," said Tom.

"How do you figure that?" asked Astro, as they peered cautiously around the edge of the doorway.

"He's wearing his oxygen mask."

"Come on!" said Astro. "Let's find out what that heel is up to."

Hugging the buildings, the two cadets walked down the street, following Miles. There was a puzzled frown on Astro's face as he stared at the spaceman, a hundred feet away. "I swear, Tom," he complained, "I'm about to bust a rocket. Every time I see that guy, I think I know him, but when I try to pin it down, it slips away from me."

"Watch it!" cried Tom. "He's stopping."

The boys ducked behind a deserted jet car as Quent Miles suddenly spun around to stare suspiciously back down the street.

"I don't know if he saw us or not," whispered Tom.

"With that oxygen mask," replied the big cadet, "maybe he can't see very well."

"He's going on," replied Tom. "Come on. We've got to find out what he's up to. He wouldn't be concerned about someone following him if he weren't trying to hide something."

They slipped around the jet car and stepped back on the sidewalk. Ahead of them, Quent Miles was walking quickly, reading all the street signs. Suddenly he turned down a side street, and the two cadets raced after him.

They were in the outskirts of the city now. Great areas were covered with rolling grass fields where the citizens of Titan spent their leisure hours playing ball and picnicking, and it was easy for the cadets to follow the black-suited spaceman. They had to put on their oxygen masks as the deadly fumes of the methane ammonia atmosphere began to swirl around them. They were near the outer limits of the atmosphere screen's effectiveness.

"I think he's going into that building up ahead, Astro," said Tom, his voice distorted to a low metallic hiss by the miniature amplifier in the face of the mask.

Astro nodded and they ducked into a gully as Quent Miles turned once again and glanced down the street.

"Wonder what's in that building?" mused Tom.

"One way to find out," said Astro. "Come on. He's moving again."

The gas began to thicken now, and the two cadets found it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead as they moved cautiously through the swirling death around them. After what seemed like an hour, but was actually hardly more than a few minutes, they found the building Miles had entered.

"I'd give two weeks' leave for a ray gun now," said Tom.

"Want me to try the door?" asked Astro.

"Go ahead. We can't learn anything standing out here."

Astro put his hand on the circular latch and twisted it slowly. The door slid back on rollers, exposing a dark interior. The two boys slipped inside.

"Better close the door, Astro," said Tom. "The ammonia doesn't seem to be so thick in here."

Astro twisted the latch on the inner side and the heavy door rolled back into place. They turned slowly and saw a room that was dark except for a single light gleaming weakly through the haze of the gas. When their eyes became adjusted to the semidarkness, they moved, searching for another door in the huge room.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" asked Astro.

"I can't be positive," said Tom. "The stuff outside was too thick—" He stopped, touched Astro on the arm, and pointed to his left. There was the sound of a door sliding back and light filtered into the murky room. Quent Miles stood framed in the doorway, the unmistakable outline of a paralo-ray gun in his right hand.

"Drop to the floor," hissed Tom.

The two cadets dropped lightly to the floor and lay face down, while Quent Miles walked toward them fanning the gun around menacingly. Then, as he was about to step on Astro's hand, he turned and walked quickly back to the door. "You must be nuts, Charley," the two cadets heard him say. "There's nobody here."

The door rolled closed and the light was cut off. Tom and Astro rose and quietly made their way toward the door. They stopped, leaned against the door, and tried to hear what was going on inside, but were unable to distinguish more than a vague mumble of voices, because of their masks and the thickness of the door. Suddenly, however, they were conscious of footsteps approaching from the other side.

There was no time to hide. Each boy flattened himself against the wall on opposite sides of the door and held his breath as the door opened slowly.

* * * * *

"There can be no doubt about it, Steve," said Commander Walters to the young captain. "What we need are more powerful pumping stations for oxygen and additional generators for supplying power to the force field."

"How do you figure that, sir?" asked Strong.

"It's simply this," replied Walters. "The population here has nearly tripled in the past two years. The force-field screens were set up originally to accommodate only a minimum number of miners and their families. With the heavy demand for crystal, and therefore, more civilians to dig it out, the force field has been overloaded."

"But I still don't see how, sir," Strong protested.

"The more people, the more oxygen needed to keep them alive, right?"

Strong nodded.

"The force screens hold back the methane ammonia gas and create a vacuum into which we pump oxygen, right?"

Again Strong nodded.

"Now we have a demand for more and more oxygen, and we pump it into the vacuum, but eventually we arrive at the point where the pressure of the oxygen inside is greater than the pressure outside. Therefore, the screening force field is broken in its weaker points and the oxygen escapes. When the balance is restored, the rupture isn't sealed and gas seeps in."

Strong glanced questioningly at Captain Howard and at Kit Barnard, who had been asked to remain on Titan and lend his assistance to the problem of the screens.

"Well, gentlemen?" asked Walters, noticing Strong's glance. "That is my theory. Do any of you have a better one? Or a more reasonable explanation?"

Strong, Barnard, and Howard shook their heads. A complete check of every possible source of trouble had been made by the four men and they had found nothing.

"We still have to wait for a report from the electronics sections, sir," said Howard, rubbing his eyes. He started to get up and then suddenly slumped to the floor.

"By the craters of Luna!" cried Walters, jumping to the young officer's side. Howard was picked up and placed on a nearby couch. While Strong and Kit loosened his clothing, Walters grabbed the nearest oxygen mask and slipped it over the spaceman's face.

"Funny that he should pass out like that," commented Strong, sniffing the air. "I still don't smell anything."

Kit looked up at Strong and grinned. "He's not gassed. He's asleep."

"Asleep!" exclaimed Walters.

The enlisted spaceman standing on guard at the door stepped forward and saluted smartly. "Captain Howard hasn't slept for the last five days," he said. "He's been working night and day."

Walters smiled. "All right, Sergeant, take him to his quarters." Then he held up his hand. "No, let him stay where he is." He turned to Steve. "Come on, Steve. You too, Kit. Let's see if we can't get a report from the electronics section before we speculate any further."

The three men left the control-tower office under the watchful eyes of a squad of Space Marines. Trouble had already started at the spaceport when a crowd of excited miners had charged a detachment of enlisted men guarding Solar Guard cruisers. The crowds were growing panicky as the deadly gas filled the city, unchecked.

Strong, Walters, and Kit Barnard climbed into a waiting jet car, amid the hoots and catcalls from the waiting miners, and hurtled away to the giant building housing the electronic "brain" that controlled the force-field screens.

Walters' face was grim. Beside him, Strong and Kit were silent as they raced through the empty streets. If there was no positive discovery by the electronics section of the huge screening operations, then it would have to be assumed that Commander Walters was right in his theory of overpopulation. To remedy that situation would require complete reconstruction of the satellite settlement and temporary abandonment of Titan. Millions of dollars would be lost and thousands of people thrown out of work. It would be a severe blow to the Solar Alliance.

The jet car slowed to a stop. They were in front of the electronics building and the three men climbed out wearily. They would know in a few minutes now.



CHAPTER 13

"You're afraid of your own shadow!" Miles snarled over his shoulder to Charley Brett who followed him out of the room. Brett was adjusting his oxygen mask with one hand and gripping a paralo-ray gun tightly with the other.

"Never mind the cracks," snapped Brett, his voice muffled by the mask. "I tell you I heard someone moving around in here."

Miles laughed again and walked straight to the middle of the room. With their backs pressed to the wall beside the door, Tom and Astro saw Miles bend over and lift a trap door in the middle of the floor.

The two men flashed a light down into the opening and climbed down, pulling the trap door closed after them.

No sooner was it shut than Tom and Astro jumped forward to examine it cautiously. Astro started to pull it open but Tom held out a warning hand. He turned and pointed toward the room that Miles and Brett had left. Astro nodded and they walked quickly back to the door. Sliding it open, they stepped inside.

"By the rings of Saturn!" cried Astro.

"Well, blast my jets!" Tom exclaimed.

The air in the room was clear, completely free of the misty whirling methane ammonia of death that swirled around them outside. Recovering from his surprise quickly, Astro closed the door and walked to the center of the room, looking around curiously. Tom had already slipped off his mask and was examining the equipment lying on the floor. Astro bent over an oddly shaped machine that looked somewhat like an ancient compressed-air drill, with a long bar protruding from one end. He examined the bar closely and then turned slowly to Tom.

"Do you know what this machine is?" he asked in almost a whisper.

Tom looked at it and then shook his head.

"I haven't seen one of these since I left Venus, and then only when I was a kid hanging around the spaceports where the space rats used to blast off for the asteroids looking for uranium."

"You mean you hunt uranium with that thing?" asked Tom.

"No, you dig it out with this."

Tom gazed at the machine thoughtfully. "Why would it be here?" he mused. "It's already been used," said Astro, standing up. "Look, the drill head is dull."

"That trap door!" Tom exclaimed. "It leads to a mine. Miles and Brett have discovered high-grade uranium right here on Titan where everyone thought there was nothing but crystal!"

Astro nodded grimly. "And that isn't all. This room is free of ammonia gas."

"But how in the star-blazing dickens can they keep it out of here when everything else outside is flooded with it?" asked Tom.

Astro spun around and began to examine the walls. "Just as I thought!" he exclaimed. "This room is airtight! Sealed! Oxygen is being pumped in here."

"From where?"

"Might be from somewhere below," replied the big Venusian. "Down that trap where Miles and Brett went."

Tom put his mask back on and headed for the door. Astro followed him. They opened it a little and peered into the swirling mist.

"Then it's being pumped in directly," Tom asserted. "Through a duct leading directly up into this room from somewhere below."

Astro nodded. "Then there's only one thing left to do. Go down through that trap door and see what we can find." He stepped forward.

"Wait a minute, Astro," said Tom, stopping him. "Let me check our oxygen. There might not be any down there. Remember, Miles and Brett wore their masks."

Making a quick check of their oxygen supply, Tom patted Astro on the back and started forward. "It's O.K. We've got another four hours left. Come on!"

They moved toward the trap door slowly.

"I still wish I had a ray gun," whispered Tom.

"As long as I can use these"—Astro balled his hamlike hands into fists—"we're O.K."

When they reached the trap door, Tom got down on his knees and felt around for the opening. He found a small ring bolt, motioned to Astro to step back, and pulled. The trap door swung back easily and a shaft of white light gleamed in his face. The young cadet leaned down and looked through the opening. What he saw made him gasp.

"What is it?" demanded Astro.



Tom motioned for him to get down and look. The big cadet dropped lightly to his knees to peer through the opening. "By the moons of Jupiter," he exclaimed, "it's a—a mining shaft!"

"Just what we thought it was," whispered Tom. "Come on. Let's go down and find out where it leads."

"Maybe we'd better go back and tell Captain Strong about this first," Astro said speculatively.

"There's no telling what Brett and Miles are liable to do while we're gone," said Tom. "You find Captain Strong and I'll go down into the shaft and look around."

"Not on your life," protested Astro. "You don't think I'd let you go down there alone, do you? You go back to Captain Strong and I'll see what those two are doing down there."

Tom grinned. "O.K., we'll both go down," he said.

Opening the trap door all the way, Tom eased himself down into the opening. Astro followed. Immediately below the trap, they found a ladder, fixed to the wall of the shaft, which led directly down to a point about thirty feet below the surface of Titan. At the bottom the two cadets paused. A long tunnel stretched before them.

"Listen to that!" exclaimed Astro.

Tom ripped off the mask and listened. He heard a strange noise which sounded more like the roar of escaping gas than a motor.

"What is it?" asked Tom.

"That's what I'd like to know!"

"And that light," continued Tom, pointing down the length of the tunnel. "Do you suppose it's Miles and Brett?"

"It isn't moving," commented Astro.

"Well, since we're here we might as well find out as much as we can," Tom decided. "Let's go."

The two cadets flattened themselves against the side of the shaft and inched forward. The hissing noise was slowly building up to a roar now, and as they made their way along the shaft, they passed other smaller tunnels that branched off to the left and right. There was evidence of recent work. Tools were scattered along the tunnel floors, as if the workers had dropped them in sudden flight.

The light ahead of them grew brighter, and as they rounded a corner, they saw a bare, unshaded lamp suspended from the roof of the tunnel.

Tom suddenly stopped and jerked Astro back. "Look!" he exclaimed, pointing to the floor, not two paces away. A thin wire, hardly noticeable, was stretched across the floor at ankle height.

"That bright light is to attract your attention while you trip over that thing and probably blow yourself to bits," he said grimly, pointing to the wall where the wire was connected to a small charge of explosives. "Nothing to bring the roof down," he continued, "but enough to blast whoever tripped over this wire."

Stepping over the wire carefully, they started down the shaft again, but Tom paused thoughtfully.

"What's the matter?" asked Astro.

"That booby trap," said Tom. "We'd better not take any chances of tripping over it on the way back. We might be in a hurry."

"I know what you mean," grunted the big Venusian. He knelt down beside the menacing box of explosives and quickly disconnected the trip wire, throwing the box to one side.

Straightening up, Astro announced, "It's harmless now."

Cautiously the two cadets continued down the tunnel, the roaring sound growing louder and louder. After twenty minutes, Astro paused, his homely features wrinkled in a frown of worry.