Treachery in Outer Space Part 5

"With that s.h.i.+p of Kit's," said Astro, shaking his head, "I doubt if he'll be able to come even close to the top speeds in the trials unless he can use the new reactor."

The room had filled up now and Strong rapped on the desk for attention.

He stared at the faces of the men before him, men who had spent their lives in s.p.a.ce. They were the finest pilots and crew chiefs in the solar system. They sat quietly and attentively as Strong gave them the details of the greatest race of s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps in over a hundred years.

After Strong had outlined the plans for the time trials, he concluded, "Each of you competing in the time trials will be given a blast-off time and an orbital course. Only standard, Solar-Guard-approval equipment will be allowed in the tests. I will monitor the trials, and s.p.a.ce Cadets Corbett, Manning, and Astro will be in complete charge of all inspections of your s.h.i.+ps." Strong paused and looked around. "Are there any questions?"

"When will the first s.h.i.+p blast off, Captain Strong?" asked a lean and leathery-looking s.p.a.ceman in the back of the room.

"First time trial takes place at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. Each s.h.i.+p has a designated time. Consult your schedules for the blast-off time of your s.h.i.+ps."

"What if a s.h.i.+p isn't ready?" asked Kit Barnard, who had slipped into the room unnoticed.

"Any s.h.i.+p unable to blast off at scheduled time," said Strong, finding it difficult to look at his old friend, "will be eliminated."

There was a sudden murmur in the room and Quent Miles rose quickly.

"That's not much time to prepare our s.h.i.+ps," he said. "I don't know who's going to be first, but I can't even strip my s.h.i.+p by tomorrow morning, let alone soup up the reactant." His voice was full of contempt, and he glanced around the room at the other pilots. "Seems to me we're being treated a little roughly."

There were several cries of agreement.

Strong held up his hand. "Gentlemen, I know it is difficult to prepare a s.h.i.+p in twelve hours for a race as important as this one," he said. "But I personally believe that any s.p.a.ceman who really wants to make it can make it!"

"Well, I'm not going to break my back to make a deadline," snarled Quent. "And I don't think any of the other fellows here will either."

"If you are scheduled to blast off tomorrow at 0600 hours, Captain Miles," Strong announced coldly, "and you are unable to raise s.h.i.+p, you will be eliminated."

Stifling an angry retort, Quent Miles sat down, and while Strong continued to answer questions, Astro, a worried frown on his face, stared at the s.p.a.ceman dressed in black. Tom noticed it. "What's wrong with you, Astro?" he asked.

"That s.p.a.ceman Miles," replied Astro. "I could swear I know him, yet I'm sure that I don't."

"He's not a very ordinary-looking guy," observed Roger. "He's plenty big and he's so dark that it wouldn't be easy to mistake him."

"Still," said Astro, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his forehead, "I know I've seen him before."

"If there are no further questions, gentlemen," said Strong, "we'll close this meeting. I know you're anxious to get to your s.h.i.+ps and begin work. But before you go, I would like to introduce the cadet inspectors to you. Stand up, boys."

Self-consciously, Tom, Roger, and Astro stood up while Strong addressed the pilots.

"Cadet Manning will be in charge of all electronics inspections, Cadet Astro in charge of the power deck, and Cadet Corbett will cover the control deck and over-all inspection of the s.h.i.+p itself."

Quent Miles was on his feet again, shouting, "Do you mean to tell me that we're going to be told what we can and can't do by those three kids!" He turned and glared at Tom. "You come messing around my s.h.i.+p, buster, and you'll be pitched out on your ear!"

"If the cadets do not pa.s.s on your s.h.i.+p," said Strong, with more than a little edge to his voice, "it will not get off the ground."

The two men locked eyes across the room.

"We'll see about that!" growled Miles, and stalked from the room, his heavy shoulders swinging from side to side in an exaggerated swagger.

"I believe that's all, gentlemen," announced Strong coldly, "and s.p.a.ceman's luck to each of you."

After the men had left, the three cadets crowded around Strong. "Do you think we'll have any trouble with Miles, sir?" asked Tom.

"You have your orders, Tom," said Strong. "If any s.h.i.+p does not meet standards established for the race, it will be disqualified!"

Astro stared at the doorway through which Quent Miles had disappeared.

He scratched his head and muttered, "If it wasn't for just one thing, I'd swear by the stars that he's the same s.p.a.ceman who--" He stopped and shook his head.

"Who what?" asked Strong.

"Nothing, sir," said Astro. "I _must_ be mistaken. It can't be the same man."

"I suggest that you sleep out at the s.p.a.ceport tonight," said Strong.

"The first s.h.i.+p will have to be inspected before she blasts off, and that means you will have to look her over before six."

"Yes, sir," replied Tom.

"And watch out for Quent Miles," warned Strong.

"Yes, sir," said the curly-haired cadet. "I know what you mean."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER 4

"The course is to Luna and return! s.p.a.ceman's luck."

Captain Strong's voice rasped out over the public address system as a lone s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p stood poised on the starting ramp, her ports closed, her crew making last-minute preparations. Ringing the huge s.p.a.ceport, crews from other s.h.i.+ps paused in their work to watch the first vessel make the dash around the Moon in a frantic race against the astral chronometer.

In the temporary grandstands at the north end of the field, thousands of spectators from cities all over Earth leaned forward, hushed and expectant.

"Are you ready _Star Lady?_" Strong called, his voice echoing over the field.

A light flashed from the viewport of the s.h.i.+p.

"Stand by to raise s.h.i.+p!" roared Strong. "Blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one--_zero!_"

There was a sudden, ear-shattering roar and smoke and flame poured from the exhaust of the s.h.i.+p, spilling over the blast-off ramp. The s.h.i.+p rocked from side to side gently, rose into the air slowly, and then gathering speed began to move s.p.a.ceward. In a moment it was gone and only the echoing blasts of thunder from its exhausts remained.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"There goes number one," said Tom to his unit mates as they watched from a vantage point near one of the service hangars.

"He got a pretty shaky start there at the ramp," commented Astro. "He must've poured on so much power, he couldn't control the s.h.i.+p."

"Heads up, fellas," announced Roger suddenly. "Here comes work." Kit Barnard was walking toward them, carrying a small metallic object in his hand.