"Well, advise the cadets to stand by for blast-off with the finalists tomorrow."

"Any particular ship you want them each a.s.signed to, sir?" asked Strong.

"No, let them decide," replied Walters. "But it would be best if you could keep Manning away from Miles. That's like putting a rocket into a fire and asking it not to explode."

The two men grinned at each other and then settled down to working out the details of Strong's trip. Before the evening was over, Walters had decided, if necessary, he would follow Strong out to t.i.tan.

In the distance, they could hear the m.u.f.fled roar of rocket motors as the three finalists tuned up their ships, preparing for the greatest s.p.a.ce race in history. And it seemed to Strong that with each blast there was a vaguely ominous echo.

"I've strained that fuel four times and come up with the same answer,"

said Astro. The giant Venusian held up the oil-smeared test tube for Kit Barnard's inspection. "Impure reactant. And so impure that it couldn't possibly have come from the Academy supply depot. It would have been noticed."

"Then how did it get in my feeders?" asked Kit, half to himself.

"Whoever was messing around on the power deck just before you blasted off for the trials must have dumped it in," said Tom.

"Obviously." Kit nodded. "But who is that? Who would want to do a dirty thing like that?"

"Who indeed?" said a voice in back of them. They all spun around to face Quent Miles. He lounged against the stabilizer fin and grinned at them.

"What do you want, Miles?" asked Kit.

"Just stopped by to give you the proverbial handshake of good luck before we blast off," replied the s.p.a.ceman with a mocking wink.

"Kit doesn't need your good wishes," snapped Sid.

"Well, now, that's too bad," said Quent. "I have a feeling that he's going to need a lot more than luck."

"Listen, Miles," snapped Kit, "did you come aboard my ship and tamper with the fuel?"

Quent's eyes clouded. "Careful of your accusations, Barnard."

"I'm not accusing you, I'm asking you."

"See you in s.p.a.ce." Quent laughed, turning to leave, not answering the question. "But then, again, maybe I won't see you." He disappeared into the darkness of the night.

"The nerve of that guy," growled Tom.

"Yes," Kit agreed, shrugging his shoulders. "But I'm more concerned about this unit than I am about Quent Miles and his threats. Let's get back to work."

Renewing their efforts, Tom, Roger, Astro, Sid, and Kit Barnard turned to the reactor unit and began the laborious job of putting it back together again, at the same time replacing worn-out parts and adjusting the delicate clearances.

It was just before dawn when Strong visited Kit's ship. Seeing the cadets stripped to the waist and working with the veteran s.p.a.ceman, he roared his disapproval. "Of all the crazy things to do! Don't you know that you could have Kit disqualified for helping him?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The giant Venusian held up the oil-smeared test tube_]

"But--but--" Tom tried to stammer an explanation.

"I couldn't have done it alone," explained Kit. He looked at Strong and their eyes met. Understanding flowed between them.

"Very well," said Strong, fighting to control himself. "If no one makes a complaint against you, we'll let it pa.s.s."

"Thanks, Steve," said Kit.

"You should have known better, Kit," said Strong. "The Solar Guard is supposed to be neutral throughout the entire race and do nothing but judge it."

"I know, Steve," said Kit. "But someone dumped impure reactant into my--"

"What?" It was the first time Strong had heard of it and he listened intently as the cadets and Sid told him the whole story.

"Why didn't you make a complaint?" demanded Strong finally. "We'd have given you more time to get squared away."

"It's not important," said Kit. "I won a place in the finals and now the boys and Sid have helped me clean it out."

Strong nodded. "All right. I guess one seems to balance out the other.

Forget it." He smiled. "And excuse me for jumping like that and thinking that you would do anything--er--" He hesitated.

"That's all right, Steve." Kit spoke up quickly to save his friend embarra.s.sment.

Strong turned to the cadets. "I've got news for you three. You are going to monitor the race by yourselves."

Tom, Roger, and Astro looked at each other dumfounded as Strong quickly outlined the plan. Later, when Sid and Kit were working inside the ship, he told them of the sudden danger on t.i.tan.

"So I'm going to leave it up to you which ship you want to ride," he concluded. "The commander has suggested that Roger not be sent along with Miles on the _s.p.a.ce Knight_. He seems to think the two of you wouldn't get along."

"On the contrary, skipper," said Roger, "I'd like the opportunity of keeping an eye on him."

Strong thought a moment. "Not a bad idea, Roger," he said as he turned to Astro. "And I suppose you want to ride with Kit and his reactor?"

Astro grinned. "Yes, sir. If I may."

"All right. Tom, I guess that means you ride with Wild Bill Stic.o.o.n."

"That's all right with me, sir," the young cadet said excitedly. "This is something I'll be able to tell my grandchildren--riding with the hottest s.p.a.ceman in the hottest race through s.p.a.ce."

Quent Miles spun around, his paralo-ray gun leveled. He saw a figure enter through the hatch, but when light revealed the face he relaxed.

"Oh, it's you!" he grumbled. "I thought you were setting things up back at Atom City."

"You fumble-fisted, s.p.a.ce-ga.s.sing jerk!" snarled Charley Brett. "Depend on you to get things messed up! That Barnard guy is all set to roll with his reactor!"

"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."