"Well, there's no use hanging around here if we can't dig any more of the stuff out, and I ain't going behind that lead shield unless I got a machine that tells me it's safe."

"I've been thinking about Manning," said Brett.

"What about him?"

"Suppose we move the stuff we've already mined to the hide-out, and take this equipment along too. He can repair it out there. We can turn off the oxygen that we're sucking off from the Solar Guard pumps, and by the time we get back here, the old satellite will be back to normal. Then, with the equipment repaired and Olympia back to normal, we can really begin operations."

Quent nodded quickly. "Good idea. Come on. Let's get this stuff aboard the ship."

On the balcony Tom and Astro looked at each other.

"They're responsible for what's happened here on t.i.tan!" whispered Tom.

"They have been sucking off oxygen from the main pumps supporting the force field."

"Come on, Tom," growled Astro. "My fist is just itching to make contact with a couple of no-good chins."

"Not so fast! We still don't know where they've got Roger."

"You want to keep on following them?" asked Astro.

"At least to their ship," Tom replied. "Then we can notify Captain Strong and he can track them in the _Polaris_. If we barge in on them now, we'll just get the satisfaction of knocking their heads together with no guarantee of any information." The young cadet turned to the door. "We'll sneak up the tunnel a way and then follow them out."

"Hurry!" said Astro. "Here they come." Quent, carrying one of the instruments, had started up the steps to the balcony.

Tom grabbed the latch and pushed up but the door would not open. "Give me a hand, Astro, quick!" he called.

Astro grabbed the latch and heaved his bulk against the door. Suddenly he stepped back dumfounded, holding the latch in his hand. It had snapped off.

Just at that moment Brett looked up and saw them. He shouted a warning to Miles, who dropped the instrument he was carrying and pulled out his ray gun.

"Just stand where you are!" he snarled, leveling the gun at them.

Tom and Astro stood quietly, hands in the air.

"How in blazes did they get here?" Brett cried.

"They must have followed me," said Miles. "They certainly couldn't have known about this place."

"But how did they get past the trap?" Brett persisted, still amazed and shaken by the unexpected appearance of the cadets.

Astro snorted his contempt. "You must think we're a couple of prize s.p.a.ce jerks," he growled. "You can't even kill a mouse with that thing now."

"Let's cut the talk," said Miles. "What do we do with them?"

"Freeze them!" snapped Brett. "No telling how long they've been here and how much they know."

"We know enough to put you on a prison asteroid," challenged Tom.

"Freeze 'em, it is," said Quent. "We'll get the ship loaded and decide what to do with them later."

He pressed the trigger on his ray gun. There was a harsh crackling sound and Tom and Astro stiffened into immobility, every nerve and muscle deadened. With the exception of their hearts, and sense of seeing and hearing, they might have been dead men.

Laughing to themselves, Quent Miles and Charles Brett picked up their instruments, walked past them, and disappeared through the door.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER 14

Charles Brett swaggered into the control room of the electronics building. Commander Walters, Captain Strong, and Kit Barnard looked up from their study of the reports the chief engineer had handed them.

"What are you doing here, Brett?" demanded Walters. "I thought you had blasted out of here long ago."

"I'm leaving as soon as we sign the contracts for hauling the crystal, Commander," said Brett.

"Contracts!" exploded Strong. "Why, man, do you realize that this satellite is about to die? If we don't find out what's wrong with the screens, there won't be any crystal mined here for the next ten years."

Brett shook his head and smiled. "That's all right with me too," he said. "The contracts call for either party to satisfy the other should either party fail to fulfill the contractual agreements. In other words, Strong, I get paid for making the trip out to t.i.tan, whether you have crystal to haul or not."

"Why, you dirty--" snarled Strong.

"Just a moment, Steve," Walters interrupted sharply. "Brett's right. We had no way of knowing that this situation would arise, or grow worse than it was in the beginning. Brett went to a great deal of expense to enter the race and win it. If he insists that the Solar Guard abide by the contract, there's nothing we can do but pay."

"It won't be too bad, Commander Walters," said Brett. "I have my ship loaded with crystal now, and if you'll just sign the contracts, I can deliver one cargo of crystal to Atom City before t.i.tan is abandoned."

"Wait a minute," cried Strong. "Who gave you the right to load crystal before signing the contract?"

"I a.s.sumed the right, Captain Strong," replied Brett smoothly. "My ship won the race, didn't it? Why shouldn't I start work right away?"

"Well, that's beside the point now, anyway," Walters said. "We may need your ship to take miners and their families to Ganymede or Mars, Brett.

Never mind the crystal. One load won't mean very much, anyway."

"No, thank you," growled Brett. "I don't haul any miners in my ship. The contracts call for crystal and that's all."

"I'm ordering you to take those people, Brett," said Walters coldly.

"This is an emergency."

"Order all you want," snapped Brett. "Look at your s.p.a.ce code book, section four, paragraph six. My rights are fully protected from high-handed orders issued by men like you who think they're bigger than the rest of the people."

Walters flushed angrily. "Get out!" he roared.

"Not till you sign that contract," Brett persisted. "And if I don't leave with a signed contract in my pocket, I'll have you up before the Solar Alliance Council on charges of fraud. You haven't got a leg to stand on and you know it. Now sign that contract."

Abruptly, Walters turned to an enlisted s.p.a.ceman and instructed him to get his brief case from the _Polaris_, then deliberately turning his back on Brett, continued his study of the report. Strong and Kit Barnard watched Brett with narrowed eyes as the arrogant company owner crossed to the other side of the room and sat down.

"You know something, Steve," said Kit quietly. "Back at the Academy, I failed to register a protest about someone dumping impure reactant into my feeders."