On the Trail of the Space Pirates Part 23

"We've searched the immediate area, sir," replied the guardsman. "Cadet Corbett isn't here."

"Are you sure?" demanded Strong.

"Yes, sir," said the guardsman stoutly.

Strong took the uniform and examined it carefully. Then he turned to Roger and snapped, "Prepare the audioceiver for immediate transmission to s.p.a.ce Academy, Manning. Astro! Get aboard our s.h.i.+p. Check her for damage and let me know how soon we can blast off!"

The two cadets saluted and raced for the small s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p.

Thoughtfully holding Tom's uniform in his hand, Strong turned back to Williams. "I'm going to leave as soon as I can, Williams. I'll tell s.p.a.ce Academy about the attack and see that a relief s.h.i.+p is sent out to you right away. Meantime, I'm leaving you in command." He paused and looked at Tom's uniform again. "If Cadet Corbett isn't on the asteroid, he must be on the attacking s.h.i.+p with the prisoners. The only question now is, do they know it?"

"You mean he smuggled himself aboard?" asked Williams.

"I'm almost sure of it!" said Strong. "And if he _is_, he's going to try to get some sort of message out. I've got to be ready to pick it up."

Strong paused and looked up at the sky overhead, still thick with smoke.

"And if he does ask for help, I'm going to answer him with the biggest fleet of s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps he'll ever see in his life!"

CHAPTER 12

"Stand by, you s.p.a.ce crawlers!" roared Bull c.o.xine into the microphone, but the loud laughter and singing of the noisily celebrating prisoners continued unabated over the intercom's loud-speakers. "Avast there!" he bellowed again. "Stow that noise! Attention! And I want _attention_!"

Standing on the control deck of his s.h.i.+p, c.o.xine waited as the men gradually quieted down. No longer wearing the white prison coverall, he was dressed in a black merchant s.p.a.ceman's uniform, the snug-fitting jacket and trousers stretching tightly across his huge shoulders. He wore a black s.p.a.ceman's cap, and two paralo-ray pistol belts were crisscrossed over his hips.

"Now listen to me!" he roared again. "Let's get one thing straight! I'm the skipper of this s.h.i.+p and the first man that thinks he's smarter than me, let him speak up!"

There was a long pause and the big man added with an ominous whisper, "But I warn you, if one of you opens your mouth, you'll take a swim in s.p.a.ce!"

There was an angry murmur among the prisoners that c.o.xine heard over the intercom. "Don't think I can't take care of you, the lot of you, one by one or all at once. I cut my milk teeth on mutiny. I know how to start one and I know how to finish one! I needed a crew and that's the only reason you're here! Any s.p.a.ceman that doesn't like the way I run things aboard this s.h.i.+p, better keep it to himself, or start swimming back to the prison asteroid!" He paused. "Well? Are you all with me?"

There was a chorus of cheers on the intercom and c.o.xine nodded grimly.

"All right," he continued, "now that we understand each other, I'll get on with the business. Second-in-command to me will be Gus Wallace.

_Lieutenant_ Wallace!"

A roar of approval came over the loud-speaker.

"Third-in-command--Luther Simms! _Lieutenant_ Simms!"

There was another roar of approval as the prisoners recognized the names of the men who had liberated them from the asteroid.

"Now, we'll handle this s.h.i.+p as if it were any other freighter. The following men will be in charge of departments!"

As c.o.xine read off the list of jobs and the men to handle them, there were yells of approval and disapproval for favorites and old enemies.

When the list of names had been read, he turned away from the intercom and faced his lieutenants, Wallace and Simms.

"Well, skipper," boasted Wallace, "it looks like we're in business again!"

"Yeah," chimed in Simms. "In three hours we'll be on our own asteroid and we can start planning our first strike!"

c.o.xine's eyes narrowed into slits. "Get this, both of you!" he snapped.

"What I said to those crawlers down below goes for you too. I'm the boss of this outfit and you don't even guess about what we're going to do, until I say so!"

"But, Bull--!" whined Wallace.

"Shut up!" roared c.o.xine. "And when you talk to me, you call me captain!"

Wallace and Simms looked at each other. "O.K., Captain," muttered Simms.

"Yes, _sir_!" corrected c.o.xine.

"Yes, sir," said Simms quickly.

"That's better," growled the giant s.p.a.ceman. "Don't get the idea that just because you were able to follow orders that it makes you smart.

Because it doesn't! It took me two and a half years to get the information collected onto these story spools and smuggle them out to you. Everything, from where to buy this s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p to getting the light-key out of the time capsule, was my idea! My brains!"

"Sure, Captain," said Wallace, "but we took the chances!"

"Yeah," sneered c.o.xine. "You took chances! The only chance you took was in not paying attention to what I told you to do. I gave it all to you.

Where to hold up the first freighter pa.s.senger, what to take, how to mount the atomic blasters, what code to use in getting through the prison defenses. The whole works! And I did it while sitting on the toughest Rock in the system. I smuggled it out right under the noses of those Solar Guard s.p.a.ce crawlers. So forget about being smart, or you'll wind up with that sc.u.m below decks!"

"Yes, sir!" said Wallace.

"Now get me a course to the asteroid and make it quick. And have some decent grub sent up to my quarters right away!"

The big man turned lightly on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet and disappeared through the hatch. After a moment, Wallace turned to Simms.

"That big s.p.a.ce-crawling b.u.m!" snorted Wallace. "I oughta blast him!"

"Go ahead!" sneered Simms. "You were the one who wanted to get him off the Rock, not me!"

"Aw shut up!" snarled Wallace. He turned to the intercom and began barking orders to his new crew.

Tom Corbett sat in one corner of a cargo compartment that had been converted into sleeping quarters, watching the celebrating prisoners.

Someone had broken into the galley stores and mixed a concoction of fruit, alcohol, and reactor priming fluid to make a foul-tasting rocket juice. The men sat about in various stages of undress as they changed from the white prison coveralls to the black uniforms of the merchant s.p.a.ceman, and drank heavily from a huge pot of the liquid.

One of the men, short and stumpy, but with shoulders like an ape, was standing on a table boasting about his strength. He was stripped to the waist and Tom could see the powerful arms and chest beneath the black hair that covered his body. As he continued to brag, the prisoners laughed and jeered, calling him Monkey. The man's face reddened and he offered to fight anyone in the room. A short, thin man with a hawk nose sitting next to Tom yelled, "Monkey," and then darted behind a bunk. The man turned and looked angrily at Tom.

"You there!" the man on the table called, looking at Tom. "You call me Monkey?"

Tom shook his head. Since the blast-off he had stayed away from the men as much as he could, certain that sooner or later someone would challenge him and discover he wasn't a prisoner. He hoped to remain aboard the s.h.i.+p long enough to plant a signal for the Solar Guard to follow. Tom felt almost certain they would be heading for Wallace and Simms' hide-out. And so far, the men had been so excited over their new freedom they hadn't bothered him. He had managed to sit quietly in the corner of the storage compartment and watch them.

"I'm talking to _you_!" shouted the hairy man, looking straight at Tom.