At exactly 0800 hours the three cadets and Captain Strong appeared at the Academy s.p.a.ceport dressed in the severe black tight-fitting trousers and jacket of merchant s.p.a.cemen. Quietly eluding all friends and acquaintances, they entered the confiscated freighter that had been prepared for s.p.a.ce flight during the night and began acquainting themselves with the ship's equipment.

When Astro reported the power deck ready and Roger cleared their course, Tom called the traffic-control tower for blast-off clearance.

"Take it easy on the first hop," said Strong. "There's no hurry and I want to be sure we get this crate off in one piece." Smiling confidently at the control-deck cadet, he turned away to his quarters. He was aware of the effect that being left alone had on the cadets. He had learned early in his a.s.sociations with Tom, Roger, and Astro that they bore responsibility well, and a challenge to do a good job would a.s.sure him the job would be done efficiently.

"Stand by to raise ship!" Tom's voice crackled confidently over the ship's intercom.

Strong sat on an acceleration cushion and strapped himself in. He heard Tom's voice counting off the seconds for blast-off.

"... Five--four--three--two--one--_zero_."

As the rockets burst into a loud roar, the freighter lurched from the ground and thundered up into the atmosphere, pushing Strong deep into his acceleration cushion. Minutes later, he felt the freedom of free-fall s.p.a.ce. In a strange ship, the _Polaris_ crew had begun a strange mission.

During the flight to Luna City, their first stop on the tour of the hangouts of outlawed s.p.a.cemen across the solar system, Strong briefed his cadets on a plan of action.

"I think it'll be better if we split up into two teams. You work with me, Corbett, and Astro will team up with Manning. We'll operate like simple tramp s.p.a.cers. Our s.p.a.ce papers have new last names, but the same first names, so there won't be any slip-ups when we speak to each other.

From now on, if we happen to meet, you'll all call me Steve and I'll call you by your first names. Is that clear?"

The cadets nodded.

"All right," continued Strong. "Now, when we arrive in a city, Tom and I will go to one section, while you two go to another. Visit the toughest-looking places you can find. Talk, talk to anyone that wants to talk. Buy people drinks. Let it slip that you're not exactly on the right side of the s.p.a.ce code. Then, if you feel you have a sympathetic listener, mention Wallace and Simms. Say you have heard of the trouble they're in. Say you know them, that you're old friends, and hint that you have something that they need very badly. Just keep talking and pulling for information. Got that?"

Again the three cadets nodded silently.

"Wear your paralo-ray guns at all times and keep your belt communicators hidden beneath your jackets," Strong warned. "If one team gets into a tight spot, call the other right away. But don't call unless it's absolutely necessary!" Strong paused and glanced at the tele-scanner.

"We're getting close to Luna City. We'll touch down at the munic.i.p.al s.p.a.ceport and go through the regular routine of customs search just to establish ourselves as tramp s.p.a.cemen."

"How long will we stay in each city, sir?" asked Tom.

"Watch that 'sir,' Tom," snapped Strong. "Might as well begin to forget it now."

"O.K., Steve," replied Tom sheepishly.

"To answer your question, we'll stay in each city only as long as there might be something to be gained by staying. We'll live aboard the _Dog Star_. But stay away from the ship as much as possible. If anyone questions you, tell them you're looking for cargo. But in case they take you up on it and offer you a cargo haul, you always want more money for the job."

Roger grinned. "That could be fun."

"Be clever, but be tough. Some of the people you'll run into are the most ruthless men in the universe. They are just the ones that might know something about Wallace and Simms."

Strong cautioned them against drinking rocket juice, suggesting they drink Martian water instead. The briefing was interrupted by the automatic warning beep from the tele-scanner informing them that they had pa.s.sed the outer beacon on the approach to the munic.i.p.al s.p.a.ceport on the Moon. The four s.p.a.cemen immediately began the routine task of landing their ship safely on the satellite colony.

An hour later, as gray-clad customs men finished searching the empty ship, Roger waited for final clearance at the air lock of the freighter.

When the last of the men were leaving the ship, Roger stopped two of them.

"Say, ground hogs," drawled Roger, "where's the best place to get something to eat?"

The two men stopped and turned to face the cadet, their eyes cold and unfriendly. "Why don't you s.p.a.ce drift blast out of here?" asked one of them.

"Yeah," agreed the other, "your kind aren't welcome in Luna City."

Roger shrugged his shoulders and turned away. The two customs officers continued down the gangway. "Those young punks," muttered one, "they get themselves a berth on a crummy freighter and think they're real hot s.p.a.ce aces when they're nothing but wet fire-crackers!"

Strong had appeared at Roger's side and heard the last remark.

"What was that about, Roger?" he asked, nodding toward the disappearing customs men.

Roger smiled. "Just seeing if I could get by."

"They certainly gave us a good going over," said Strong grimly. "I think our disguise is perfect. Those fellows don't miss much."

"I heard them talking, Steve," said Roger. "They recognized the ship and know its reputation for smuggling."

"Yes," agreed Strong. "And your remark will make them sure to watch every move we make. But that's just what we want. News of that sort has a way of getting around. And anyone interested in a ship with a reputation for smuggling is someone we're interested in."

Astro walked up, and with a brief nod Roger followed the big cadet down the gangway. As they walked across the concrete surface of the s.p.a.ceport, Tom appeared at Strong's elbow.

"I'm ready to go, Steve," he said. "The ship's secure."

"Very well, Tom," said Strong. "But from now on, keep your eyes and ears open. It only takes one slip to make a dead s.p.a.ceman!"

CHAPTER 8

"See that fellow over there, Steve?" whispered Tom. "The one with the scar on his face?"

"Yeah," replied the disguised Solar Guard officer. "I've been watching him too. And I think he's had his eye on us."

Tom and Captain Strong were sitting in a small restaurant near the s.p.a.ceport, drinking Martian water and discussing the shadowy characters that lounged around the stuffy little room.

"I'll walk over to the bar," said Strong. "Maybe he doesn't want to talk to two of us together. You go over and see if you can strike up a conversation."

"Good idea, sir--uh--Steve," said Tom.

Strong got up and with an exaggerated swagger walked to the small bar.

From the mirror in back of the bar, he could see Tom rise and saunter over to the man who sat on the opposite side of the room.

For three days, Roger, Astro, Tom, and Strong had wandered through the bars, restaurants, and cheap hotels of s.p.a.ceman's Row in Luna City searching for information that would lead them to Wallace and Simms.

Each night they returned to the freighter to exchange, sift, and a.n.a.lyze the bits of information gathered, but for three nights they had come up with a total of nothing. Finally, Strong had decided that this would be the last night they would spend in Luna City. It was after making this decision that he and Tom spotted the scar-faced man sitting alone in one corner.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The scar-faced man obviously wanted something from Tom_]

Strong saw Tom stop at the table, say a few words, then sit down and order drinks. Tom and the scar-faced man continued their conversation, now leaning across the table talking in whispers, stopping only long enough for the waiter to serve the drinks. Strong noticed that the scar-faced man paid for them and smiled to himself. That was a step in the right direction. He obviously wanted something from Tom.

Suddenly the young cadet looked up and motioned for him to come over to the table. Strong merely lounged against the bar and nodded carelessly.