Think you can beat that?"

"If we can't beat it, we can equal it!" said Astro. "See you on the Martian moon, buddy! End transmission!"

Steadily, the _Good Company_ rocketed through s.p.a.ce, eating up the miles and gaining on the _s.p.a.ce Lance_. Both ships now made contact with the control tower on Deimos and received landing instructions.

"_s.p.a.ce Lance_ will touch down on Ramp Three, _Good Company_ on Ramp Six," crackled the voice of the Deimos tower operator, "and don't forget your approach orbits!"

"Have you heard from the _s.p.a.ce Knight_?" called Tom.

"Sorry, _s.p.a.ce Lance_," came the reply, "there has been no contact with _s.p.a.ce Knight_."

Tom began to feel the fingers of fear creeping up and down his spine.

Quent Miles had carried out his plan of going on to Ganymede without refueling, threatening not only his own life, but Roger's as well.

Stic.o.o.n completed the three circling pa.s.ses around Deimos and shouted to Tom over his shoulder. "Stand by, Corbett. We're ready to go in!"

Tom strapped himself into his acceleration chair and, watching the atmospheric altimeter, a delicate instrument that recorded their height above the surface of a heavenly body, began to call off the indicated figures.

"Five thousand feet, four, three--dropping too fast--compensate for lesser gravity--two thousand, one, five hundred, two hundred--" Tom braced himself and seconds later felt the impact of the ship settling stern first on the concrete ramp. "Touchdown," he sang out in a clear voice.

While Stic.o.o.n secured the control deck, closing the many switches and circuits on the master panel, Tom opened the air lock. Almost immediately, special-trained crews swarmed into the ship to refuel her and prepare her for the next lap of the race. Tom and Stic.o.o.n stepped out onto the s.p.a.ceport of the tiny moon of Mars and gazed up at the red planet that loomed large over the horizon. As a transfer point for the great pa.s.senger liners that rocketed between Venusport, Atom City, and Marsopolis, the refueling station at Deimos was well staffed and expertly manned.

Standing at the air lock, Tom and Stic.o.o.n heard the blasting roar of the _Good Company_ coming down in a fast, expert touchdown, and they hurried across the s.p.a.ceport to greet their rivals.

When the air lock opened, Tom immediately began to kid Astro and Sid, while Stic.o.o.n and Kit Barnard compared flight notes. A Universal Stereo reporter rushed up with a small portable camera and conducted an interview that was to be telecast back to Earth. Both s.p.a.cemen were reluctant to voice any predictions of the outcome of the race, but Tom noticed that Kit was smiling and seemed in good spirits. Tom, with all his worries about Roger, could not help but feel happy that the independent s.p.a.ceman was proving his reactor.

A man in the uniform of a Solar Guard major appeared. He introduced himself as an official monitor of the race, appointed by Commander Walters, and asked them for a report.

"Captain Stic.o.o.n has followed all regulations, sir," said Tom.

"And Captain Barnard, Cadet Astro?" asked the officer.

"Same thing, sir," replied Astro. "Captain Barnard has followed the rules of the race exactly."

"Thank you," replied the officer and started to turn away.

"Any word from the _s.p.a.ce Knight_, sir?" Tom asked quickly.

"Nothing, Corbett," the officer replied. "We received the same message that Captain Miles would attempt to go on through to Ganymede without stopping here at Deimos for refueling."

"And you've heard nothing from him since, sir?" asked Astro.

"Nothing, why?" The officer looked at both of the boys sharply.

"Anything wrong?"

"No, sir," said Tom. "It's just that Cadet Roger Manning is monitor on the _s.p.a.ce Knight_ and we haven't been able to talk to him since we blasted off from s.p.a.ce Academy."

"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, Cadet Corbett," snapped the major. "I've heard of Cadet Manning's reluctance to stick to regulations. I suspect you will be hearing from him soon enough, when the ship runs out of fuel and starts drifting around in the asteroid belt. Those individualists always scream for help when they get in trouble."

"Yes, sir," said Tom stiffly.

"I already have a squadron of ships standing by to go to their a.s.sistance when they do send out a distress alert."

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "Will that be all, sir? Cadet Astro and I would like to have a bite to eat before we blast off again."

"Yes, that will be all, Corbett. Don't wander off too far." The major turned and walked toward the ships without another word.

"Wonder what's eating him?" said Tom.

"Never mind," said Astro. "Come on. Let's grab a bite while we have the chance."

They headed for the restaurant in the control building of the s.p.a.ceport, but were recognized by the reporter of the stereo company who badgered them into stepping before the camera and making statements about the race. He tried to get the boys to commit themselves as to who they hoped would win, and to offer an opinion on what had happened to the _s.p.a.ce Knight_. But neither Tom nor Astro said anything but that the best man would win. There were the usual eager spectators too, thousands from the large cities on Mars who had taken the ferry rocket up to the s.p.a.ceport to see the ships come in for refueling. As soon as Tom and Astro could tear away from the stereo reporter, they were mobbed by the onlookers who clamored for autographs. Finally the two cadets had to forego their meal and return to their respective ships to escape the wild demonstration.

Seated in his acceleration chair on the control deck of the _s.p.a.ce Lance_, waiting for Bill Stic.o.o.n to come aboard, Tom found his concern for Roger overriding his enthusiasm for the race. When Stic.o.o.n appeared and began to prepare the ship for blast-off, Tom went through the motions mechanically. The _s.p.a.ce Lance_ was scheduled to leave first, with Kit Barnard following at the exact time interval of their arrivals.

The Deimos tower operator's voice droned over the loud-speaker on the control deck of the _s.p.a.ce Lance_ " ... minus five, four, three, two, one"--then the breath-taking pause before the climactic--"_zero!_"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The ship shot s.p.a.ceward, rockets roaring loudly in the thin atmosphere of the small satellite. The next moment, before the horrified eyes of thousands of people, the _s.p.a.ce Lance_ exploded a few miles above the ground.

Astro stood frozen at the viewport of the _Good Company_, his eyes glazed with shock as he watched the Martian ship disintegrate far above him. All he could do was mutter brokenly, "Tom ... Tom ..."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER 9

"Blast off!"

Without any preliminaries, Kit Barnard's order sent the _Good Company_ hurtling s.p.a.ceward. Astro had just enough time to throw himself into an acceleration chair before the ship shot away from the Deimos s.p.a.ceport toward the wreckage of the _s.p.a.ce Lance_.

"Braking rockets!" roared Kit. "Hit them hard, Sid."

The ship bucked under the force of the counter-acceleration, and the veteran s.p.a.ceman fought to keep her under control. He snapped out another order. "Cut all rockets!"

The ship was suddenly quiet, hanging motionless in s.p.a.ce in the middle of the still-twisting wreckage. The huge bank of atomic motors, the largest single unit on the ship, had already begun to swing around the small moon Deimos in an orbit, while other shattered remains of the once sleek ship began a slow circle around the motors themselves.

Astro was struggling into a s.p.a.ce suit when Sid and Kit joined him in the air lock. Quickly the three s.p.a.cemen clamped their s.p.a.ce helmets closed and adjusted the oxygen nozzles. Then, after testing their suit intercoms, they closed the inner-portal air lock, reduced the air pressure, and opened the thick pluglike outer portal. They stared out at the gruesome spectacle of torn hull plates, twisted spars, and broken pieces of equipment floating gently in the velvet s.p.a.ce, outlined against the reddish hue of the planet Mars.

"Astro! Kit!" shouted Sid through the suit intercom. "Look, there's Stic.o.o.n! Over there near that tube." Following Sid's pointing finger, Astro and Kit turned toward an exhaust tube that had been ripped in half by the explosion. The Martian s.p.a.ceman's body floated next to it, limp and broken. Astro shuddered. If Stic.o.o.n was dead, then there was little hope for Tom. The big Venusian fought back tears.

Maneuvering themselves away from the ship with the aid of the small jet packs strapped to their shoulders, they reached the dead s.p.a.ceman. Sid carried him back to the ship while Astro and Kit remained to search the wreckage for Tom.

By now, three small jet boats and two rocket scouts had blasted off from Deimos, bringing emergency rescue equipment. More than a dozen men poured out of the ships and joined in the search. The work was carried on in silence. No one spoke.

Astro and Kit worked side by side, pushing their way gently through the twisting ma.s.s that was once a proud s.p.a.ceship, to the heart of the spiraling wreckage, down toward the bank of atomic motors that was attracting all the lesser pieces. Suddenly Astro paled. He gripped the veteran's arm and gestured toward a large section of the ship on the other side of the motors that they had not seen before.