"We regret to announce that the spaceship _La Belle France_, piloted by
Gigi Duarte, has crashed!"
Captain Strong's voice was choked with emotion as he made the
announcement over the spaceport public-address system. There was an
audible groan of sympathy from the thousands of spectators in the
grandstands. In spite of every precaution for safety, death had visited
the spaceways.
Strong continued, "We have just received official confirmation from Luna
City that the Paris-Venusport Transfer Company entry exploded in space
soon after leaving Luna City. Captain Duarte had flown the first leg of
the race from Earth to the Moon in record time."
The Solar Guard officer snapped off the microphone and turned to Tom,
Roger, and Astro. "It's hard to believe that the French Chicken won't be
shuttling from Paris to Venusport any more," he murmured.
"Are there any details, sir?" asked Tom.
"You know there are never any details, Corbett," said Strong with a
little edge in his voice. Then he immediately apologized. "I'm sorry,
Tom. Gigi was an old friend."
The door behind them opened and an enlisted spaceman stepped inside,
saluting smartly. "Ready for the next blast-off, Captain Strong," he
announced.
"Who is it?" asked Strong, turning to the intercom connecting him with
the control tower that co-ordinated all the landings and departures at
the spaceport.
The spaceman referred to a clipboard. "It's the _Space Lance_, sir.
Piloted by Captain Sticoon. He's representing an independent company
from Marsopolis."
"Right, thanks." Strong turned to the intercom mike, calling, "Captain
Strong to control tower, check in."
"Say, I'd like to see this fellow blast," said Tom. "He's supposed to be
one of the hottest pilots ever to hit space."
"Yeah," agreed Roger. "He's so good I don't see how anyone else could
have a chance."
"With that hot rocket in this race," said Astro, "the others will have
to fight for second and third place."
"Control tower to Strong," a voice crackled over the intercom
loud-speaker. "Ready here, sir."
"Right. Stand by for the next flight, Mac," replied Strong. "It's
Sticoon."
Strong flipped a switch on the intercom to direct contact with the
waiting ship and gave Sticoon the oft-repeated final briefing,
concluding, "Do not go beyond the necessary limitations of fuel
consumption that are provided for in the Solar Guard space code. If you
return here with less than a quarter supply of reactant fuel, you will
be disqualified. Stand by to blast off!"
"Uh-huh!" was all the acknowledgment Strong received from the Martian.
Famed for his daring, Sticoon was also known for his taciturn
personality.
"Clear ramp! Clear ramp!" Strong boomed over the public-address system.
When he received the all-clear from the enlisted spaceman on the ramp,
Strong flipped both the public-address system and the intercom on.
"Stand by to raise ship!"
He glanced at the astral chronometer. "Blast off, minus five, four,
three, two, one--_zero!_"
Tom, Roger, and Astro crowded to the viewport in Strong's command shack
to watch the bulky Martian's ship take to space. With Sticoon at the
controls, there was no hesitation. He gave the ship full throttle from
the moment of blast-off and in three seconds was out of sight. There
wasn't much to see at such speed.
The three members of the _Polaris_ unit left the shack to return to
their task of inspection. They passed the maintenance hangar where Kit
Barnard was readying his ship for blast-off in the next half hour.
"Any last-minute hitches, Kit?" asked Astro, vitally interested in the
new reactor unit and its cooling system.
Kit smiled wearily and shook his head. "All set!"
"Good." Tom smiled. "We'll try to be back before you blast. We've got to
check Quent Miles' ship now."
As the three cadets approached the sleek black vessel with its
distinctive markings, the air lock opened and Quent Miles stepped out on
the ladder.
"It's about time you three jerks showed up," he sneered. "I have to
blast off in twenty minutes! What's the idea of messing around with that
Barnard creep? He hasn't got a chance, anyway."
"Is that so?" snapped Roger. "Listen--!"
"_Roger!_" barked Tom warningly.
Quent grinned. "That's right. Lay off, buster. Get to your inspecting
and let a spaceman blast off."
"Kit Barnard will blast off after you, and still beat you back," growled
Roger, stepping into the ship. He stopped suddenly and gasped in
amazement. "Well, blast my jets!"
Tom and Astro crowded into the air lock and looked around, openmouthed.
Before them was what appeared to be a hollow shell of a ship. There were
no decks or bulkheads, nothing but an intricate network of ladders
connecting the various operating positions of the spaceship. Everything
that could be removed had been taken out of the ship.
"Is this legal?" asked Roger incredulously.
"I'm afraid it is, Roger," said Tom. "But we're going to make sure that
everything that's supposed to be in a spaceship is in this one."
"When I blast off, I don't intend carrying any passengers," growled
Miles behind them. "If you're going to inspect, then inspect and stop
gabbing."
"Let's go," said Tom grimly.
The three boys split up and began crawling around in the network of
exposed supporting beams and struts that took the place of decks and
bulkheads. It did not take them long to determine that Quent Miles' ship
was in perfect condition for blast-off. With but a few minutes to spare,
they returned to face Miles at the air lock.
"O.K., you're cleared," Tom announced.
"But it'll take more than a light ship to win this race," said Roger,
and unable to restrain himself, he added, "You're bucking the best space
busters in the universe!"
"One of them"--Quent held up his finger--"is dead."
"Yeah," growled Astro, "but there are plenty more just as good as Gigi
Duarte."
The intercom buzzer sounded in the ship and Quent snapped, "Beat it!
I've got a race to win." He pushed the three cadets out of the air lock
and slammed the pluglike door closed. From two feet away it was
impossible to spot the seams in the metal covering on the port and the
hull.
"Clear ramp! Clear ramp!" Strong's voice echoed over the spaceport. Tom,
Roger, and Astro scurried down the ladder and broke away from the ramp
in a run. They knew Quent Miles would not hesitate to blast off whether
anyone was within range of his exhaust or not.
"Blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one--_zero!_"
Again the spaceport reverberated to the sound of a ship blasting off.
All eyes watched the weirdly painted black ship shudder under the surge
of power, and then shoot spaceward as if out of a cannon.
"Well, ring me around Saturn," breathed Tom, looking up into the sky
where the black ship had disappeared from view. "Whatever Quent Miles
is, he can sure take acceleration."
"Spaceman," said Astro, taking a deep breath, "you can say that again.
Wow!"
"I hope it broke his blasted neck," said Roger.
* * * * *
"And you saw him messing around here, Sid?" asked Kit Barnard of his
young helper.
"That's right," replied the crew chief. "I was on the control deck
checking out the panel and I happened to look down. I couldn't see too
well, but it was a big guy."
[Illustration]
"Messing around the reactor, huh?" mused Kit, almost asking the question
of himself.
"That's right. I checked it right away, but I couldn't find anything
wrong."
"Well, it's too late now, anyway. I blast in three minutes." Grimly Kit
Barnard looked up at the sky where the black ship had just vanished.
"Spaceman's luck, Kit," said Sid, offering his hand. Kit grasped it
quickly and jumped into his ship, closing the air lock behind him.
As Sid climbed down from the ramp, the three cadets rushed up
breathlessly, disappointed at being unable to give Kit their personal
good wishes.
"Well, anyway, I gave the new reactor my blessing last night," said
Astro as they walked away from the ramp.
"You were aboard the ship last night?" Sid exclaimed.
"Uh-huh," replied Astro. "Hope you don't mind."
"No, not a bit!" Sid broke into a smile. "Whew! I thought for a while it
was Quent."
"What about Quent?" asked Tom.
"I saw someone messing around on the power deck last night and thought
it might be Quent. But now that you say it was you, Astro, there isn't
anything to worry about."
Reaching a safe distance from the ramp, they stopped just as Strong
finished counting off the seconds to blast off.
"_Zero!_"
The three cadets and Sid waited for the initial shattering roar of the
jets, but it did not come. Instead, there was a loud bang, followed by
another, and then another. And only then did the ship begin to leave the
ground, gradually picking up speed and shooting spaceward.
"What was wrong?" asked Tom, looking at Sid.
"The feeders," replied the young engineer miserably. "They're not
functioning properly. They're probably jamming."
Astro looked puzzled. "But I checked those feeders myself, just before
you closed the casing," he said. "They were all right then."
"Are you sure?" asked Sid.
"Of course I'm sure," said Astro. "Checking the feeders is one of my
main jobs."
"Then it must be the reactant," said Tom. "Did Kit use standard
reactant?"
Sid nodded. "Got it right here at the spaceport. Same stuff everyone
else is using."
Gloomily the four young spacemen turned away from the ramp and headed
for the control tower to hear the latest reports from the ships already
underway. There were only a few more ships scheduled to blast off, and
the cadets had already inspected them.
"Wait a minute," said Tom, stopping suddenly. "The fuel tanks are on the
portside of the ship, and the feeders are on the starboard. Where did
you see this fellow messing around, Sid?"
Sid thought a moment and then his face clouded. "Come to think of it, I
saw him on the portside."
"I wasn't even close to the tanks!" exclaimed Astro.
"There was someone messing around them, then," said Roger.
"Yes," said Tom grimly. "But we don't know _who_--or _what_ he did."
"From the sound of those rockets," said Astro, "Kit's feeders are
clogged, or there's something in his reactant that the strainers are not
filtering out."
"Well," sighed Roger, "there isn't anything Kit can do but keep going
and hope that everything turns out for the best."
"_If_ he can keep going!" said Tom. "You know, there are some things
about this whole race that really puzzle me."
"What?" asked Roger.
"Impure reactant in Kit's ship, after fellows like Kit, Astro, and Sid
checked it a hundred times. Gigi Duarte crashing after making record
speed to the Moon. The minimum specifications being stolen from
Commander Walters...." Tom stopped and looked at his friends. "That
enough?"
Roger, Astro, and Sid considered the young cadet's words. The picture
Tom presented had many curious sides and no one had the slightest idea
of how to go beyond speculation and find proof!
[Illustration]