Brett smiled. "The same as everyone else, Commander."

"What about your feeders?" asked Strong. "With ordinary reactant, and no new cooling units aboard your ship, you must have oversized feeders to make such fantastic speeds."

Brett shrugged and held out his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I don't even know myself, Captain Strong," he said blandly. "It's one reason why I have Quent Miles piloting for me. He has a few tricks that apparently are quite effective."

"I hope they are legitimate tricks, Mr. Brett," said Walters. "Let's go, Steve."

The three officers turned away and left Brett sitting there, smiling triumphantly.

"I think we'd better start from the beginning in our inspection of the screens, Captain Howard," said Walters, as the three officers left the control tower and walked across the s.p.a.ceport. "First of all, I want a twenty-four-hour watch placed on all operational centers, pump houses, and generator plants. I cannot discount the idea of sabotage. Why anyone would want to wreck the screens is beyond me, but we cannot ignore the possibility."

"I already have men stationed at the main operational centers, sir,"

replied Howard. "Your s.p.a.ce Marines will help me cover the rest."

"Steve," said Walters, turning to the Solar Guard officer, "if this is a natural phenomenon--some new element in t.i.tan's atmosphere breaking down the force screens--the problem is bad enough. But if this is caused by man--if it really is sabotage--we'll have a doubly hard time. We can find the reason eventually, if it is natural, but man can conceal his reasons. And until we find out the motives behind this we must count on the situation getting worse. I want you to pursue _that_ line of investigation. Find out if anyone has a good reason to force the abandonment of t.i.tan."

"It's a big order, sir," said Strong. "I'll do the best I can."

"That's good enough for me," replied the commander, nodding his satisfaction.

"Any word, sir?" asked Astro eagerly as the white-clad medical officer emerged from the room.

The man smiled. "Thanks to you, Cadet Astro," he replied, "your friend will be able to leave as soon as he gets his pants on."

"Yeow!" bawled Astro in his famous bull-like bellow. "Thanks, sir.

Thanks a million!" He turned and wrenched open the sick-bay door, almost splintering it in his enthusiasm. Tom was just sitting up on the side of the bed.

"Hiya, Astro!" called Tom with a weak grin. "The sawbones tells me I owe you a brand-new shiny credit piece for saving my life."

His enthusiasm at high pitch, Astro was nevertheless unable to do more than smile broadly at his unit mate. "Only reason I did it," he said.

"All right, here you are." Tom handed over a coin. "That's all I thought my chances were worth."

At that moment the Solar Guard major in command of the Deimos s.p.a.ceport entered, followed by Kit Barnard and Sid. After greeting Tom with enthusiasm that matched Astro's, Kit and Sid stood to one side quietly and listened while Tom gave his preliminary report to the major who held a recorder microphone in front of him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _"Yeow!" bawled Astro. "Thanks, sir. Thanks a million!"_]

"I heard a terrific noise on the power deck as soon as we blasted off,"

Tom began. "And Captain Stic.o.o.n ordered me to go below and check on it.

I saw the trouble right away. The lead baffles around the reactant chambers had become loose and the reactant was spilling out, starting to wildcat. I called Bill over the intercom right away and he ordered me to get into a s.p.a.ce suit and wait for him in the air lock. I heard him shut off the generators--but that's all. The reactant blew and I must've been knocked cold, because the next thing I remember was this big ugly face bending over me ordering me to wake up." Tom grinned at Astro.

"I see," mused the major aloud. "Now about the baffles. How could they have worked loose? Do you think the lock bolts gave way in the excessive heat due to the intense blast-off speed?"

"No, sir," said Tom firmly. "Those bolts were loosened. I distinctly remember seeing one of them fall to the deck as I walked in."

"Then you suspect that the ship was sabotaged?"

"That's not for me to say, sir," said Tom after a moment's hesitation.

"In all my experience, I have never seen one of those bolts work loose of its own accord or because of heat or vibration on the power deck." He glanced at Astro, who was hunched forward, listening intently. "Have you, Astro?"

The big Venusian shook his head slowly. "Never," he said.

"Well, thank you, Corbett, that will be all for now," said the major and then turned to Kit. "I want to congratulate you, sir, on your sacrifice in going to the aid of the _s.p.a.ce Lance_."

"Wild Bill would have done the same thing for me," said Kit without emotion. "Do I have permission to continue the race now?"

The major was startled. "You mean you still want to go on?"

"Every cent I have is tied up in my ship and in this race, sir," said Kit. "I have my new reactor unit working properly now, and I believe that I still have a chance."

"But you've lost hours, man," protested the major.

"I can make them up, sir," said Kit. "Am I permitted to carry on?"

The major was fl.u.s.tered, but nodded his head. "By all means. Yes, indeed! And s.p.a.ceman's luck to you."

"I'd like to make the trip with him if he'll have me, sir," said Tom, getting off the bed. "I'm all right. The doctor said so."

"But--but--but you need rest, Cadet Corbett," said the major. "No, I can't permit it."

Just at that moment the medical officer walked in.

"So far as I'm concerned," he said, looking at Tom, "he's a lot healthier than you are, sir. With all due respect, sir."

"Very well, then," shrugged the major. "Carry on! Do as you please!"

Shaking his head in confusion, the major left the room.

"Well," said Kit Barnard, stepping forward, a big smile on his face, "what are we waiting for?"

"Minus five, four, three, two, one--_zero!_"

The s.p.a.ceship _Good Company_ shot away from the small moon of Mars and thousands of eyes at the s.p.a.ceport followed it into the heavens, watching its blazing track disappear into the depths of s.p.a.ce. If sympathy and good wishes could decide the race to t.i.tan, the s.p.a.ceship _Good Company_ was a certain winner.

Aboard the sleek craft, Tom Corbett relaxed after the tremendous blast-off acceleration and turned to look at the tense face of Kit Barnard who was seated in the pilot's chair.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Kit?" said Tom. "I can take this baby over. It's the least I can do for all you've done for _me_."

"Thanks, Tom, but I'll stay with it awhile longer," replied the veteran s.p.a.ceman. "At least until we find out where the _s.p.a.ce Knight_ is."

Tom suddenly remembered the trouble with Roger.

"Has there been any news of them at all?" he asked.

"The last thing we heard was that he was approaching Ganymede. And that was a few hours ago, when you were trapped in the air-lock chamber."