Part 3

He found what he was looking for rolled up on the bed where its owner had used it as an extra pillow. He shook out the prison suit of white coveralls, stripped off his own blue cadet's uniform, and hurriedly put on the distinctive prison gear. It was a little large for him and he rolled up the sleeves and trouser legs, hoping no one would notice in the excitement. Then, with a deep breath, he stepped out of the hut into full view of the prisoners still left at the air lock.

"Hey, wait for me!" he yelled, running for the ship.

The men paid no attention in their haste to get aboard the ship. When Tom reached the air lock, there were only two left. He slapped the nearest man on the back.

"Pal, I've been waiting for this a long time!"

"Yah," the man answered, "me too!" Then he looked at Tom closely. "Say, I've never seen you around here before!"

"I just got in on the supply ship last week. They kept me in the tower for a while," Tom replied.

"Oh, well," said the man, "they ain't keepin' anybody there anymore!"

"Come on you guys," snarled a heavy-set man in the air lock above them. "We ain't got all day!"

Tom looked up, and without being told, he felt he was looking into the face of Bull Coxine. And when the other prisoner spoke, he was certain.

"Yeah, Bull," said the man. "Comin', comin'!" He reached up and Bull grabbed his outstretched hand. When Bull pulled, the man literally leaped through the air into the air lock.

"All right, space crawler," roared Bull to Tom, "you're next!" The big man stuck out his hand. Tom gulped. For one desperate second he thought of turning and running away.

"Well?" growled Bull. "You coming or ain't cha?"

"You're blasted right I'm coming," said Tom. "This is one time the Solar Guard is taking it on the chin. And, crawler, am I happy to see it!"

He grabbed Bull's hand and was lifted as easily as if he had been a feather. Coxine dropped him on the deck and turned away without a word to disappear inside the ship.

As he looked around, Tom suddenly felt a cold shiver run through his body. He felt as if he had signed his own death warrant. There was no mistake about it. The ship was the same one he had watched night after night at the exposition on Venus. And the names of the two owners exploded in his brain. "Wallace and Simms!"

He turned to jump out of the air lock, but it slid closed in front of him. He was trapped.

* * * * *

Sprawled on the ground in front of one of the white houses near the tower perimeter, Captain Strong stirred, shook his head, and painfully rose to a half-crouch. With eyes still dulled by shock, he looked around to see Astro lying unconscious a few feet away. His brain still reeling from the effects of Coxine's sneak attack, he staggered over to his knees beside him.

"Astro, Astro--" Strong called. "Astro, snap out of it!"

The big Venusian moaned and opened his eyes. He sat bolt upright. "Captain Strong! What happened?"

"I'm not too sure, Astro," said Strong. "All I remember is Coxine slugging me."

As they struggled to their feet, they suddenly noticed the towering columns of smoke rising into the air.

"By the rings of Saturn!" gasped Strong. "Look, Astro!"

"Blast my jets!" cried the big cadet. "What--what could have happened?"

The two spacemen stood gaping at the shattered remains of the tower and the smoldering area around it. In the distance, scarlet-clad guardsmen moved dazedly around the wreckage and above them a rocket destroyer was blasting on one jet, coming in for a touchdown.

"Astro," said Strong grimly, "I don't know how it could have happened, but the prison asteroid has been attacked. A rocket-blasting good job of it! Come on! We've got to get over there!"

"Yes, sir," said Astro. As they started running toward the field, he searched the figures moving about in the distance for two familiar blue uniforms. "I don't see Roger or Tom, sir," he said hesitantly. "Do you think--?"

"We'll just have to wait and see," interrupted Strong grimly. "Come on, step it up!"

As the two spacemen approached the smoking ruins of the underground cradles, ammunition dumps, and repair shops, they passed groups of men digging into the rubble. In sharp contrast to the careful scrutiny they had received when they first arrived at the prison, no one noticed them now. Strong stepped up to a man in a torn and dirty sergeant's uniform.

"What happened?" he asked.

The man turned and looked at Strong and Astro. Aside from the swollen bump on the Solar Guard captain's head and the bruise on the cadet's neck there were no signs of their having been in the attack. When the guardsman finally replied, there was a sharp edge to his voice. "I thought _everyone_ knew we were attacked, _sir_!" He turned back to a detail of men who were watching. But Strong pulled the man up sharply.

"Attention!" he barked. The sergeant and the crew came to stiff attention. Strong stepped forward and looked the guardsman straight in the eye. "Under any other circumstances, Sergeant," snapped Strong, "I'd have your stripes and throw you in the brig for your insolence! Now I want a clear account of what happened. And I want it blasted _quick_!"

"Yes, sir!" stammered the guardsman, realizing he had gone too far. He hurriedly gave a detailed description of the battle, ending with a report that Major Savage had been injured and that Lieutenant Williams was now in command of the prison.

"Where will I find Lieutenant Williams?" asked Strong.

"At the rocket destroyer, sir. It just landed."

"Very well, Sergeant!" said Strong, adding in a gentler tone, "I realize you've had a rough time of it, so we'll forget what just happened. Get back to your work."

As Astro followed the Solar Guard captain toward the rocket ship he saw a familiar figure standing near the air lock. A boy with close-cropped blond hair and wearing cadet blues.

"Roger!" yelled Astro joyfully. "Captain Strong, look! It's Roger!"

They quickened their pace and were soon beside the small space vessel that had been blasted out of commission before it could fire a shot. While Roger was telling them of having volunteered for radar operations aboard the ship and of their being disabled by a near miss, Lieutenant Williams suddenly appeared in the air lock and saluted smartly.

"Major Savage has been injured, sir," said Williams. "Since you are the highest ranking officer on the asteroid, are there any orders?"

"I'm not acquainted with your men, or your prison, Williams," replied Strong. "I'll accept the command as a formality but appoint you my chief aid. Carry on and do anything necessary to get things cleared away."

"Very well, sir," said Williams.

"Have communications been destroyed?"

"Yes, sir. Communications was located in the tower, but Cadet Manning has converted the equipment on ship for long-range audio transmission."

"Very good!" said Strong. "As soon as you get a chance, I want you to make out a full report on the attack, including your personal opinion of who attacked us and why."

"I don't know who manned that ship, sir," said Williams, "but I can tell the reason all right. Every prisoner on the asteroid has escaped!"

"Yes," mused Strong. "I thought that would be the answer. But how did that ship get through your defenses?"

"Captain Strong," said Williams grimly, "I don't think there is any question about it. Someone broke the asteroid code. The attacking ship identified itself as the regular supply ship."

"A Solar Guardsman?" asked Strong.

"No, sir," said Williams. "I'd bet anything that none of our men would do that!"

"Then who?" asked Strong.

"Only one man would be smart enough to get the code and break it, and then sneak it off to the attacking ship!"

"Who?" asked Strong.

"Bull Coxine!" answered the young officer through clenched teeth.

They were interrupted by a guardsman. "Sir, we found this in prison hut twenty-four."

"What is it?" asked Strong.

Astro's eyes suddenly widened and he stepped forward. "Why, that's ... that's Tom's uniform!" he stammered.

"Tom!" gasped Strong. "But where is he?"

"We've searched the immediate area, sir," replied the guardsman. "Cadet Corbett isn't here."

"Are you sure?" demanded Strong.

"Yes, sir," said the guardsman stoutly.

Strong took the uniform and examined it carefully. Then he turned to Roger and snapped, "Prepare the audioceiver for immediate transmission to Space Academy, Manning. Astro! Get aboard our ship. Check her for damage and let me know how soon we can blast off!"

The two cadets saluted and raced for the small spaceship.

Thoughtfully holding Tom's uniform in his hand, Strong turned back to Williams. "I'm going to leave as soon as I can, Williams. I'll tell Space Academy about the attack and see that a relief ship is sent out to you right away. Meantime, I'm leaving you in command." He paused and looked at Tom's uniform again. "If Cadet Corbett isn't on the asteroid, he must be on the attacking ship with the prisoners. The only question now is, do they know it?"

"You mean he smuggled himself aboard?" asked Williams.

"I'm almost sure of it!" said Strong. "And if he _is_, he's going to try to get some sort of message out. I've got to be ready to pick it up."

Strong paused and looked up at the sky overhead, still thick with smoke. "And if he does ask for help, I'm going to answer him with the biggest fleet of spaceships he'll ever see in his life!"

CHAPTER 12

"Stand by, you space crawlers!" roared Bull Coxine into the microphone, but the loud laughter and singing of the noisily celebrating prisoners continued unabated over the intercom's loud-speakers. "Avast there!" he bellowed again. "Stow that noise! Attention! And I want _attention_!"

Standing on the control deck of his ship, Coxine waited as the men gradually quieted down. No longer wearing the white prison coverall, he was dressed in a black merchant spaceman's uniform, the snug-fitting jacket and trousers stretching tightly across his huge shoulders. He wore a black spaceman's cap, and two paralo-ray pistol belts were crisscrossed over his hips.

"Now listen to me!" he roared again. "Let's get one thing straight! I'm the skipper of this ship and the first man that thinks he's smarter than me, let him speak up!"

There was a long pause and the big man added with an ominous whisper, "But I warn you, if one of you opens your mouth, you'll take a swim in space!"

There was an angry murmur among the prisoners that Coxine heard over the intercom. "Don't think I can't take care of you, the lot of you, one by one or all at once. I cut my milk teeth on mutiny. I know how to start one and I know how to finish one! I needed a crew and that's the only reason you're here! Any spaceman that doesn't like the way I run things aboard this ship, better keep it to himself, or start swimming back to the prison asteroid!" He paused. "Well? Are you all with me?"

There was a chorus of cheers on the intercom and Coxine nodded grimly.

"All right," he continued, "now that we understand each other, I'll get on with the business. Second-in-command to me will be Gus Wallace. _Lieutenant_ Wallace!"

A roar of approval came over the loud-speaker.

"Third-in-command--Luther Simms! _Lieutenant_ Simms!"

There was another roar of approval as the prisoners recognized the names of the men who had liberated them from the asteroid.

"Now, we'll handle this ship as if it were any other freighter. The following men will be in charge of departments!"

As Coxine read off the list of jobs and the men to handle them, there were yells of approval and disapproval for favorites and old enemies. When the list of names had been read, he turned away from the intercom and faced his lieutenants, Wallace and Simms.

"Well, skipper," boasted Wallace, "it looks like we're in business again!"

"Yeah," chimed in Simms. "In three hours we'll be on our own asteroid and we can start planning our first strike!"

Coxine's eyes narrowed into slits. "Get this, both of you!" he snapped. "What I said to those crawlers down below goes for you too. I'm the boss of this outfit and you don't even guess about what we're going to do, until I say so!"

"But, Bull--!" whined Wallace.

"Shut up!" roared Coxine. "And when you talk to me, you call me captain!"

Wallace and Simms looked at each other. "O.K., Captain," muttered Simms.

"Yes, _sir_!" corrected Coxine.

"Yes, sir," said Simms quickly.

"That's better," growled the giant spaceman. "Don't get the idea that just because you were able to follow orders that it makes you smart. Because it doesn't! It took me two and a half years to get the information collected onto these story spools and smuggle them out to you. Everything, from where to buy this spaceship to getting the light-key out of the time capsule, was my idea! My brains!"

"Sure, Captain," said Wallace, "but we took the chances!"

"Yeah," sneered Coxine. "You took chances! The only chance you took was in not paying attention to what I told you to do. I gave it all to you. Where to hold up the first freighter passenger, what to take, how to mount the atomic blasters, what code to use in getting through the prison defenses. The whole works! And I did it while sitting on the toughest Rock in the system. I smuggled it out right under the noses of those Solar Guard space crawlers. So forget about being smart, or you'll wind up with that scum below decks!"

"Yes, sir!" said Wallace.

"Now get me a course to the asteroid and make it quick. And have some decent grub sent up to my quarters right away!"

The big man turned lightly on the balls of his feet and disappeared through the hatch. After a moment, Wallace turned to Simms.

"That big space-crawling bum!" snorted Wallace. "I oughta blast him!"

"Go ahead!" sneered Simms. "You were the one who wanted to get him off the Rock, not me!"

"Aw shut up!" snarled Wallace. He turned to the intercom and began barking orders to his new crew.

* * * * *

Tom Corbett sat in one corner of a cargo compartment that had been converted into sleeping quarters, watching the celebrating prisoners. Someone had broken into the galley stores and mixed a concoction of fruit, alcohol, and reactor priming fluid to make a foul-tasting rocket juice. The men sat about in various stages of undress as they changed from the white prison coveralls to the black uniforms of the merchant spaceman, and drank heavily from a huge pot of the liquid.

One of the men, short and stumpy, but with shoulders like an ape, was standing on a table boasting about his strength. He was stripped to the waist and Tom could see the powerful arms and chest beneath the black hair that covered his body. As he continued to brag, the prisoners laughed and jeered, calling him Monkey. The man's face reddened and he offered to fight anyone in the room. A short, thin man with a hawk nose sitting next to Tom yelled, "Monkey," and then darted behind a bunk. The man turned and looked angrily at Tom.

"You there!" the man on the table called, looking at Tom. "You call me Monkey?"

Tom shook his head. Since the blast-off he had stayed away from the men as much as he could, certain that sooner or later someone would challenge him and discover he wasn't a prisoner. He hoped to remain aboard the ship long enough to plant a signal for the Solar Guard to follow. Tom felt almost certain they would be heading for Wallace and Simms' hide-out. And so far, the men had been so excited over their new freedom they hadn't bothered him. He had managed to sit quietly in the corner of the storage compartment and watch them.

"I'm talking to _you_!" shouted the hairy man, looking straight at Tom. "You called me Monkey and then lied about it! Maybe you're scared, eh?"

He slipped off the table and advanced toward Tom. The young cadet tried to figure a way out of the threatening fight. He wasn't afraid of the man, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself. And one of the surest ways of letting Wallace and Simms know he was aboard ship was to get into a fight. He couldn't risk discovery. He had to signal the Solar Guard before he was caught. But how to get around the hairy, drunken criminal now standing over him?

Tom looked up and saw that the man would not be put off. He would have to fight. He took notice of the powerful arms and shoulders, and decided his best bet would be to stay away, but glancing around quickly he saw there wasn't any room to retreat. The other prisoners were crowding around, eager to watch the fight. Suddenly his opponent let out an animal-like roar and jumped to pin him down on the deck.

The young cadet timed his move perfectly. As the man's body came down on him, he threw up both legs and caught him in the pit of his stomach. Tom could feel his feet sink deep into the man's mid-section as he kicked out hard and sent him sprawling against the bulkhead. With a bellow of rage, the hairy man picked himself up and charged back at Tom, who was now on his feet, braced to meet him.

[Illustration: _The young cadet timed his move perfectly_]

As the prisoners began to roar, Tom side-stepped and back-pedaled frantically, trying to get out of the impossible situation. If he won, there would be questions for him to answer. Questions that would be difficult and might betray his identity. But if he allowed Monkey to win, he might die right there on the deck. The man was blind with rage and would stop at nothing.

The man rushed in again and, unable to back away, Tom felt the hairy arms close around him in the most powerful grip he had ever felt in his life. Slowly, evenly, Monkey applied pressure. Tom thought his ribs would crack. His head began to swim. The faces around him that laughed and jeered suddenly began to spin around him dizzily.

Then, with the desperation of a man facing death, Tom began to push outward, his arms under Monkey's chin. The man tried to apply more pressure but the cadet fought him, forcing his head back farther and farther. The prisoners were silent, watching the deadly battle. Then, gradually, Tom felt the hairy man's grip relaxing. With the last ounce of his strength he burst out of the encircling arms and staggered back. The ape man looked at him stupidly and then down at his arms as if they had betrayed him. With a roar, he came rushing in again. Tom set himself, left foot forward, shoulders hunched, and when Monkey came within arm's length, he swung with all the strength he had left in his body. His fist landed on the point of Monkey's chin. There was a distinct sound of crushing bone and Monkey sank to the deck, out cold. Gasping for breath, Tom stood over the sprawled man and just looked at him. The crowd around him was staring at the fallen man in disbelief. Through the roaring in his head, Tom could hear their voices, "He broke out of Monkey's grip!" "He broke the guy's jaw with one punch!"

Tom turned blindly to the corner where he had been sitting and slumped to the deck. Someone shoved a cup in his hands and he gulped its contents blindly, hardly tasting the foul rocket juice or feeling it burning his throat.

The cadet was sure now that he would be caught. Monkey had been a popular member of the crew and some of his friends were certain to even the score. But to Tom's surprise, there were no questions and a few of the men came over to pat him drunkenly on the back. A couple of them dragged the unconscious man out of the compartment and up to sick bay. The others soon forgot the fight and continued their merrymaking.

Tom sat alone and silent in the corner, his strength returning slowly. He had faced his first obstacle and had won. But he knew that what lay ahead of him made the fight insignificant by comparison. He decided his next move would be to acquaint himself with the ship and, if possible, get a paralo-ray gun.

As the men continued their drunken singing and yelling he mumbled an excuse about soaking his fist in cold water and managed to escape from the crowded compartment.

Outside in the passageway, the cadet began to figure out the plan of the ship, first locating the power deck by its roaring purr. He climbed a ladder to the next deck, walked slowly down the passageway toward what he thought to be the control room, and leaned against the hatch. He heard the soft tinkle of a radar signal and his heart skipped a beat. He had stumbled onto the astrogation and radar bridge. Wondering if he should burst into the room and attempt to overpower the men on duty, or wait for a better chance later, he was suddenly startled by a sharp voice in back of him.

"You--spaceman!" Tom turned to stare right into the face of Bull Coxine!

The big man looked at Tom with piercing eyes.

"What's your name?" demanded Coxine.

"Uh--uh--they call me the Space Kid!" he finally managed.

"Space Kid, eh?" mused Coxine. "I don't remember seeing you on the Rock."

"They held me in the tower for a month trying to make me take the psychograph rehabilitation. I got out when the blasting started."

"What were you on the Rock for?" asked Coxine. "You're pretty young to be sent to the Rock."

Tom thought desperately of a crime he could have committed that would send him to the prison asteroid. Suddenly he got an idea. He looked at Coxine and spoke in as harsh a voice as he could.

"Listen," he snarled, "I just broke Monkey's jaw for treating me like a kid. I hope you don't crowd me into fighting you by asking so many questions. Y'see I won't answer them and then you'll have to freeze me." Tom paused and tried to gauge Coxine's reaction. But he couldn't see a thing in the cold staring eyes. "And," Tom continued, "if you freeze me, you'll lose a better man than most of the scum in your crew!"

Coxine stepped forward and towered over the curly-haired cadet. When he spoke, his deep voice echoed in the deserted passageway.

"What was your rating as spaceman before you hit the Rock?" asked the big man.

Tom's heart raced. If he could get to the control deck or the radar bridge, he could send his signal easily. But he realized quickly that in either of these places he would be spotted almost immediately by Wallace or Simms. He had to stay away from them and wait for a later chance. Tom's mind raced.

"I was a gunner on a deep spacer," he drawled confidently. "I can take the space tan off a crawler's nose at a hundred thousand yards with anything from a two-inch to a six-inch blaster."

Coxine's eyes sharpened. "Where did you learn to use a six-incher? They're only on heavy cruisers of the Solar Guard!"

Tom could have bitten his tongue off. He had slipped. He thought quickly. "I was an enlisted spaceman in the Solar Guard."

"Why'd you get sent to the Rock?"

"My officer was a smart-alec lieutenant just out of Space Academy. We got in a fight--" Tom didn't finish the sentence.

"And you were kicked out, eh?"

"No, sir," said Tom. "I hit him so hard--he never woke up again. I had to blast out of there, but they caught me."

"All right," said Coxine. "Report to the gunnery chief. Tell him I said you're second-in-command." The big man turned and walked away from the cadet without another word.

Tom watched him disappear and smiled. He had faced two impossible situations, the fight with Monkey and now this meeting, and he had come out on top in each. Perhaps he had a chance, after all.

CHAPTER 13

"Any report from the search squadrons yet, Steve?" asked Commander Walters.

"No, sir," replied Captain Strong. "We're concentrating on the asteroid belt, but so far we've drawn a blank."

"Well, keep trying and let me know the minute something turns up," said Walters.

"Yes, sir," said Strong, saluting his commanding officer as the elder spaceman left the room. He turned back to a large desk in the center of the room where Roger Manning was busy noting figures on a large chart, showing the areas already covered and listing the squadrons engaged in the search.

As Strong leaned over his shoulder, Roger placed a finger on the chart. "Squadron Ten has just completed a search of all asteroids in their assigned area," he said, then added laconically, "Nothing."

Strong studied the chart a moment. "Well, we'll have to keep it up," he said. "It's the only way we'll find them. A systematic search of the belt from end one to the other." He paused and then muttered, "Only one thing I'm worried about."

"What's that, sir?" asked Roger.

"That when we do find them, it'll be too late to help Tom."

"You really think he's aboard Coxine's ship, Captain Strong?"

"Couldn't be anywhere else," answered Strong. "And he'll be trying to signal us, you can bet on that. Keep me posted on all radar contacts made by the search squadrons. I want a continuous six-way radar sweep by every ship."

"Yes, sir," said Roger.

"One more thing," said Strong, "tell Astro to get the _Polaris_ ready to blast off. And you make sure your radar bridge is in A-one condition."

"Are we blasting off, sir?" asked Roger.

"Every ship we can get into space will give us a better chance of finding Coxine and his crew. Now that we've got the search fully under way there's no need to hang around here any longer."

"Glad to hear it, sir," replied Roger. "I was getting a little itchy to hunt for those crawlers myself. And Astro can hardly keep still."

Strong smiled. "Don't worry, we'll find Tom," he said. "Wherever he is, you can bet he's taking care of himself and doing a good job for the Solar Guard."

Roger's eyes twinkled. "Oh, I wasn't so worried about Tom as I was Astro, sir. He'll be pretty mad if there isn't anything left of Coxine to pay him back for slugging him."

Strong rubbed his head and said grimly, "Astro's not the only one!"

The blond-haired cadet left the room, and Strong wearily turned back to study the chart of the search in the asteroid belt.

Immediately upon arrival at Space Academy, two days before, Strong had been placed in charge of the search by Commander Walters. The attack on the prison asteroid and the escape of the prisoners had created the biggest sensation in his life. From one end of the Solar Alliance to the other, the visunews and the stereos were full of the attack and escape details, with Strong's name appearing often in the headlines and news flashes. To search the asteroid belt had been his suggestion, and while he could offer no proof, he believed the attacking ship had been commanded by Wallace and Simms. Speaking only to Commander Walters, Strong had received permission to combine the search for Wallace and Simms, with the new hunt for Coxine. Strong was convinced that Coxine was behind the activity of Wallace and Simms, from the beginning at the Solar Exposition to the present.

Strong looked at his watch. It was past midnight. He flipped a switch and paged Lieutenant Moore on the central communicators. In a few moments the young officer appeared and saluted smartly.

"Take over here, Moore," said Strong. "I'm going to sack in for a little rest and then take the _Polaris_ out. I'll be in constant contact with you and will direct search operations from the _Polaris_. You stand by here and relay all reports. We'll use code 'VISTA' for all contacts."

"Yes, sir," said Moore. "Shall I work up charts like that one?" He pointed to the chart left by Roger.

"Statistics here at the academy will handle that," replied Strong. "Just shoot the information down to them as you receive it. And you'd better get someone else up here to help you. You'll be here a long time."

Moore saluted and Strong walked wearily from the room. There wasn't any need for cleverness now, thought the Solar Guard captain. When we catch Coxine, he'll fight. And when he fights, that will be the end of him!

He went to his quarters and in thirty seconds was asleep.

* * * * *

"Radar bridge to control deck!" A voice crackled over the intercom aboard the newly named pirate ship, _Avenger_. "Hullo, control deck! Come in!"

"Yeah?" roared Bull Coxine. "Whaddya want?"

"Picked up a blip on the radar, Captain," replied the radar officer. "Looks to me like the jet liner from Mars to Venus."

"Relay the pickup to the control-deck scanner and let me take a look at it," ordered Coxine.

In a moment the big pirate was studying the scanner carefully. Wallace and Simms stood to one side. Coxine turned and looked at them with a hard glint in his eyes. "That's the jet liner, all right!" He rubbed the palms of his huge hands together and smiled thinly. "It looks like we're in business!"

Wallace stepped forward. "You mean, you're going to--?"

"I'll tell you what I mean," snapped Coxine, "when I want you to know it!"

He turned to the intercom and began to bawl orders into the microphone.

"All hands! Stand by your stations for attack!"

There was an answering roar of approval from the crew.

"We're making our first strike, you space crawlers! A jet liner from Mars to Venus. There'll be lots of fancy things aboard her. Things the Solar Guard wouldn't give you on the Rock!"

There was another roar over the loud-speaker.

"But the first man that takes anything but what I tell him will find himself on the wrong end of two big fists!"

"We're closing in, Captain," interrupted the voice from the radar bridge. "The angle of approach is in our favor. I don't think they've seen us yet!"

"Keep watching her, Joe," replied Coxine, and turned to his two henchmen on the control deck. "You, Wallace! Take number-one jet boat. Russell, Stephens, Attardi, and Harris. Each man will take a paralo-ray pistol and rifle. Report to your boat when I give the order."

There was a pause as the men named scurried to their stations. Coxine continued, "The following men will come with me in boat number two. Shelly, Martin, and the Space Kid. The rest of you man the forward and aft blasters. But no one fires until Lieutenant Simms gives the order!"

He turned to Simms and stared at the man coldly. "I'll be in contact with you all the time. You'll fire when I say to fire, and not before. Is that clear?"

Simms nodded.

"Range-fifty thousand yards to liner, Captain!" reported the radar bridge. "I think she's sighted us!"

"Forward turret!" roared Coxine. "Put a blast across her bow just to show how friendly we are!"

"Aye, aye, sir," acknowledged a voice from the gun turret.

In the turret Tom listened to the orders to attack the helpless spaceship with mounting anxiety. If he could only plant the signal on the _Avenger_ before going to the liner, he might be able to remain aboard the passenger ship and escape. He was interrupted in his thoughts by a rough voice in back of him.

"Hey, Kid! Space Kid!" yelled Gaillard, the commander of the gun turret. "Come on! You heard the orders, didn't you? Get me the range."

"Right away," answered Tom. He stepped to the range finder, quickly figured the speed of the jet liner, their own speed and the angle of approach. Racking them up on the electronic tracker, he turned back to Gaillard, "Let her go!"

"Fire!"

There was a thunderous noise and the _Avenger_ rocked gently in recoil from the heavy blast. Tom quickly sighted on the range finder and saw a ball of light flash brilliantly in front of the passenger ship. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had to keep up his avowed reputation of being a crack marksman and at the same time could not damage the unarmed passenger ship. The shot had been perfect.

"Good shooting, Kid," roared Coxine from the control deck.

"Thanks, skipper," said Tom, aware that he had not called Coxine captain, but knowing that his earlier speech to the giant pirate had earned him a certain amount of respect.

Coxine quickly made contact with the captain of the liner on the teleceiver and the outraged captain's face sharpened into focus on the screen aboard the _Avenger_.

"By the craters of Luna," exploded the skipper of the passenger ship, "what's the meaning of this? There are women and children aboard this vessel."

Coxine smiled thinly. "My name's Bull Coxine, master of the vessel _Avenger_. One funny move out of you and I'll blast your ship into protons! Stand by for a boarding party!"

"Captain! Captain!" the radar operator's voice screamed over the control-deck loud-speaker, "they're trying to send out a signal to the Solar Guard!"

"They are, huh?" roared Coxine. "Forward turret, check in!"

"Turret, aye!" reported Tom. He had been left alone while Gaillard issued small arms to the boarding parties.

"Listen, Kid!" roared Coxine. "You said you're a good shot. Right now is the time to prove it. Blast away her audio antenna!"

Tom gulped. At a range of fifty thousand yards, the antenna, a thick piece of steel cable, might as well have been a needle to hit.

"Right, skipper," he finally replied. "I'll show you some of the fanciest shooting you'll ever see in your life!"

He turned back to the range finder, his mind racing like a calculating machine. He figured the angles of the two ships, considering that the jet liner was a dead ship in space and the _Avenger_ still under way, but slowing down at a specific rate of deceleration. He rechecked his figure a third and fourth time, correcting his calculations each time with the forward movement of the _Avenger_. If he misjudged a fraction of a degree, he might kill or injure hundreds of people aboard the passenger vessel.

"Well?" roared Coxine. "Are you going to fire or not?"

"Coming right up, skipper!" shouted Tom. "Watch this!"

Steeling himself, lest he should hit the ill-fated ship, he fired. For a brief moment he felt sick and then heard the roar of the pirate captain from the control deck.

"By the rings of Saturn," roared Coxine, "that was the best shot I've ever seen! Well done, Kid! All right, boarding crews! Man your boats and stand by to blast off!"

While Coxine vocally lashed the members of the murderous crew into action, Tom tried to figure out some way to get to the radar deck unseen. Being assigned to the jet boat with Coxine, instead of Wallace, had been a lucky break and Tom wished for a little more of the same. Lining up with his boarding crew, he received his paralo-ray pistol and rifle from Gaillard, deftly stealing a second pistol while the gunnery officer's back was turned.

After hurriedly hiding the stolen gun, he slipped stealthily topside to the radar bridge. Reaching the hatch, he was about to open it, when he heard footsteps. He turned and saw a man walking toward him. It was Simms!

"Where in the blasted universe is the jet-boat deck?" snarled Tom. He dropped his rifle on the deck and bent over to pick it up, hiding his face.

"You're on the wrong deck," said Simms. "Two decks below. Get moving!"

The pirate lieutenant hardly gave the cadet a glance as he brushed past and entered the radar bridge. Tom caught a fleeting glimpse of the interior. His heart jumped. The bridge was exactly like the one on the _Polaris_! Though annoyed that his chance had slipped past, Tom was thankful to learn that the communications equipment was thoroughly familiar.

"Space Kid! Report to the jet-boat deck on the double!" Coxine's voice rumbled through the empty passageway. Tom dashed down the nearest ladder and hurried to the jet-boat deck where the pirate captain waited impatiently.

"I was checking the range and setting up to blast the liner in case they try anything funny," explained Tom. "I don't trust anyone on that range finder but me!"

Coxine chuckled. "Good work, Kid. I like a man that thinks ahead. Maybe I made the wrong man gunnery chief." He climbed into the jet boat. "All right, take the controls, Kid. Shelly and Martin, get in the stern." The men climbed in and Tom slid under the controls and waited for the order to blast off.

Wallace and his crew were on the opposite side of the ship, so Tom had no fear of being recognized until they were all on the passenger ship. At his side, Coxine spoke to Wallace in the other jet boat over the audioceiver.

"We'll split up. I'll handle the control deck and you go aft to the supply lockers. Dump everything out in space and we can pick it up later. Search the passengers, but no rough stuff. The first man that puts his hands on anyone will never know what hit him!"

Tom listened to the pirate captain's orders and was forced to give the man credit for his tight control over his murderous crew. However rebellious he might be against the Solar Guard, and whatever it was that made the man become the system's most notorious criminal, his orders spoke for themselves.

"All right, Kid," roared Coxine, "blast off!"

Tom pressed the control pedal at his foot and the small ship shot out into the black void of space. Ahead of them, thousands of yards away, he could see the gleaming passenger ship.

In a few moments the two jet boats were braking their jets and drifting to a stop inside the catapult deck of the luxurious liner.

Almost before Tom had stopped the small craft, Coxine was out of the boat waving his paralo-ray pistols at a cluster of frightened merchant spacemen.

"Back inside!" he snarled. "Kid! Shelly! Cover me! We're going to the control deck. Martin, you stay here with the jet boat."

Coxine marched straight through the ship, head up, eyes straight ahead, while behind him, Tom and Shelly swept the luxurious lounges with their ray rifles, ready to fire on any who dared resist. They marched past the frightened passengers, climbed a flight of carpeted stairs to the next deck, and entered the control room.

The liner's captain, a tall, thin man with graying hair, stood waiting beside the control panel, his eyes flashing angrily. A half-dozen junior officers stood stiffly in back of him.

Coxine stepped up to the elderly officer and laughed good-naturedly. "No one will be hurt, skipper. I just want a few things for my men"--he paused and glanced at the ship's vault--"and whatever you have in there!"

"I'll live to see the day when you're caught and sent to the prison asteroid for this," snorted the captain.

"Don't make me laugh, skipper," said Coxine lightly. "The Solar Guard will have to build a new one for me. Don't think there's much left of the old one!"

"Then it was you! You're responsible for the attack on the asteroid!"

Coxine just smiled and turned to Tom and Shelly. "Watch these crawlers closely, now. I'm going to open the vault."

Tom stared at the ship's officers, hoping to catch the eye of one of them, but they were all watching Coxine.

The pirate captain pulled a thin rod about two feet long, with a switch on one end, from his jacket. He walked to the solid titanium door of the vault and inserted the rod into a small hole, pressing the switch at the end of the rod carefully several times. He stepped back and inserted it in another hole in the face of the door and repeated the procedure. Putting the key back in his jacket he grabbed the handle of the massive door. It swung open at his touch. The captain of the liner and officers gasped in amazement.

Working quickly, Coxine crammed the thick bundles of credit notes and passenger's valuables into a bag. At last he straightened up, and facing the unbelieving officer again, he tossed them a mocking salute. He nodded to Tom and Shelly and walked out of the control room without another word.

Shelly and Tom quickly followed the giant spaceman back to the jet-boat deck, where Wallace was just returning from his own operations. Wallace made a circle out of his fingers to Coxine and the giant pirate nodded.

"Let's get out of here!" he ordered.

"Aren't you afraid they'll try to stop you, skipper?" asked Tom.

Coxine laughed. "Just let them try. I never met a man yet that had the nerve to pull the trigger of a paralo-ray gun while my back was turned."

Tom gulped and wondered if he would have the nerve to fire on the spaceman. He thought about it a moment and decided that he would take any chance that came along, if he could outwit the criminal. When the time came, he would risk his life to stop Coxine!

CHAPTER 14

"All right, line up, you space crawlers!" bawled Coxine. "When I call your name step up to get your share of the haul!"

The pirate captain was seated at the head of a long mess table, an open ledger in front of him. There were stacks of crisp new credit notes at his elbow. He took out his paralo-ray pistols and placed them within easy reach. On either side of him, Wallace and Simms sat, staring at the money with greedy eyes.

Coxine looked at the first name on the ledger.

"Joe Brooks!" he called. "One thousand credits for spotting the liner!"

Brooks grinned and amid cheers walked to the table. Coxine handed him a small stack of notes carelessly and turned back to the ledger.

"Gil Attardi!" he roared. "One thousand credits for working on the boarding crew."

Attardi, a sly, scar-faced man, stepped forward to accept his share. He carried a long, thin knife with an edge so deadly keen that he could and often did shave with it.

Coxine continued his roll call. "Sam Bates! Five hundred credits. Straight share."

Bates stepped forward and glared at Coxine.

"How come I only get five hundred and the others get a thousand?" he snarled. "It ain't my fault I'm stuck on the power deck while you grab all the glory jobs!"

The laughing, excited crowd of men grew silent as the rebellious spaceman faced Coxine.

"You get five hundred credits," snarled Coxine. "Take it or leave it!"

"I want the same as Brooks and Attardi," demanded Bates.

Quicker than the eye could follow, Coxine rose and smashed the man in the face with a giant fist. Bates dropped to the deck like a stone. Coxine glared at the rest of the crew.

"The next crawler that thinks he's not getting his fair share," he snarled, "will get a trip in space for his share!" He glanced down at the unconscious man and jerked his thumb toward the hatch. "Get him out of here!"

Two men dragged the unconscious man away and threw a bucket of cold water on him. He woke up, snatched at his share of the credits, and disappeared from the room.

The pirate captain continued reading the list of names, arbitrarily, handing out various amounts of the stolen money as he saw fit.

Standing in the rear of the messroom, hidden by the other members of the crew, Tom realized that to step in plain sight of Wallace and Simms for his share would mean instant betrayal. He had to make his move now, and with most of the crew mustered together in the messroom, it was his one chance for success.

Gripping the stolen paralo-ray gun in his jacket pocket, he slipped out of the messroom unnoticed and headed for the radar bridge.

As he raced up the companionway he could hear the laughter of the men below decks as one by one they received their shares. His name would be called soon. Heart pounding, he stopped outside the radar hatch, pulled the paralo-ray gun from his jacket, and taking a deep breath opened the hatch.

Joe Brooks was seated in front of the scanner counting his share greedily and glancing occasionally at the finger of light that swept across the green globe. When Tom opened the hatch, he looked up and smiled.

"Hiya, Kid," he said. "Coxine's all right. I got a thousand just for picking up that ship on the radar. How much did you collect?"

"This," said Tom. He shoved the paralo-ray gun into Brooks' stomach. The man gulped and finally found his voice.

"Say, what is this? A gag? Where did you get that paralo-ray?" Then suddenly he shoved the bundle of notes in his pocket. "Oh, no, you don't! You're not going to steal my share!"

"I don't want your money!" said Tom coldly. "Get into that locker and keep your mouth shut, or I'll blast you!"

"Locker? Say, what's the matter with you? You gone space happy?"

"Get in there," growled Tom. At the look on the cadet's face, Brooks rose quickly and stepped into the locker. Tom slammed the door and locked it. Then, locking the passageway hatch, he turned to the radar scanner. Working quickly with deft hands, he opened the casing around the delicate instrument and began disconnecting the major terminals. Studying the complicated tangle of connections, he wished that he had as much knowledge of radar as Roger.

He finally found the wires he wanted and separated them from the other connections. He began replacing them, altering the terminals. After checking his work, to make sure it would not short-circuit, he grabbed the intercom and began taking it apart. Sweat beaded his forehead. Time was short. Soon Coxine would miss him and come looking for him. He had to complete his job before that happened.

After moments that seemed like hours he was ready. Using one of the intercom relays he began tapping out a message in Morse code on an exposed wire from the scanner. He looked at the radar scanner and watched it flash white static lines each time he touched the wires. Carefully he tapped out a message.

" ... emergency ... attention ... Corbett ... Space Cadet ... aboard ... Coxine ... pirate ... ship ... space quadrant ... B ... section ... twenty ... three ..."

Over and over he repeated the desperate message, hoping against hope that someone would be scanning space and the interference would show up on their radar.

" ... emergency ... attention ... Corbett ... Space Cadet--"

* * * * *

"Captain Strong!" Roger's voice came shrieking over the ship's intercom. "Captain! Quick! I'm picking up a message from Tom!"

"What?" cried the Solar Guard officer. "Nail it! I'm coming up!"

Scrambling up the ladder to the radar bridge from the control deck, Captain Strong rushed over to the scanner and watched eagerly as blinking flashes washed out the background of the screen.

Slowly, at times unevenly, the message flashed and the two spacemen read it with gladdening hearts. Strong made a careful note of the position while Roger continued to read the flashes. Turning to the astrogation panel, the Solar Guard captain quickly plotted a course that would bring them to Tom's position.

Endlessly, during the past few days, Strong, Roger, and Astro had swept space in a wide arc around the asteroid belt, hoping to pick up just such a signal. Now, with the position of the _Avenger_ in his hands, Strong grabbed for the intercom.

"Attention, power deck!" yelled Strong. "We've just picked up a message from Tom. He's given us his position, so stand by for a course change."

"Yeee-eooow!" roared Astro. "I knew he'd do it."

"He's not in the clear yet. We've only got his position. We don't know how we're going to get him away from Coxine yet."

"Ready to change course, sir," said Astro.

"Three degrees on the down-plane of the ecliptic, and fifty-four degrees to starboard. Full space speed, Astro! Pile it on!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" replied Astro. "I'll make this wagon's tail so hot it'll blast at double speed!"

"You'd better, you Venusian ape!" cried Roger. "It's the least you can do for Tom!"

"Stow it, Manning," growled Astro good-naturedly, "or I'll stick some of your hot air in the jets for extra power!"

"Cut the chatter, both of you!" snapped Strong. "Astro, execute course change!"

Astro's reply was a blast on the steering rockets. On the control deck, Strong watched the needle of the astral compass swing around and stop dead on the course he had ordered.

"All set, Astro!" shouted Strong. "Right on course. Now pile on the neutrons!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

On the power deck, the big cadet turned to his control panel, took a deep breath, and opened the reactant feeders wide. The ship leaped through the airless void under the sudden burst of power and Astro watched the acceleration indicator climb to the danger line. He gulped as the needle passed the danger point and was about to cut down speed when the needle stopped. Astro breathed easily and settled back satisfied. If it was up to him, they would reach Tom in record time.

Up on the radar deck, Roger continued to read the flashing signals on the radar scanner. Over and over, he read the same message.

"I guess that's all he can say, sir," said Roger, turning to Strong.

"Yes, I guess so, Roger," agreed Strong. "He's probably sending it out blind, on an open circuit, hoping that anyone near enough would pick it up. Wonder how he did it?"

Roger thought a moment. "I'm not sure, sir, but I think he's crossed the impulse on the scanner from positive to negative."

"How do you mean?" asked Strong. The young captain was well acquainted with the principle of radar but, admittedly, could not match Roger's natural ability.

"By making the impulse negative, sir," said Roger, "he could create interference on the scanner. Instead of bouncing against something and returning an image to a scanner, the impulse hits itself and creates static which shows up in the form of those white flashes."

"Well, in any case," said Strong with a sober nod toward the scanner, "he's done something the whole Solar Guard couldn't do. He's quite a boy!"

Roger smiled. "I'll say he is, skipper!"

Strong turned away and climbed down to the control deck. He sat in front of the great control panel and watched the countless dials and needles. But his mind wasn't on the delicate handling of the great ship. He was thinking about Tom, alone aboard a ship with a crew of desperate criminals.

Tom had taken his life in his hands to send out the message, that much Strong was sure of! And the young skipper noted with pride that there was no appeal for help in the desperate call.

He shook his head wearily and flipped the teleceiver switch to report to Commander Walters.

* * * * *

"Emergency ... attention...." Tom continued to tap out the message slowly and carefully. Behind him, he could hear Brooks hammering against the locker door. Tom felt like opening the door and freezing the pirate with his paralo-ray gun to keep him quiet, but he didn't dare to stop sending.

Finally Tom decided it was time to go. "If anyone's going to pick up the message," he thought, "they've picked it up by now. I may still have time to get away in a jet boat."

He tied the wires together, causing a continuous interference to be sent out, and secured the radar casing. "If I'm lucky enough to get away in a jet boat," thought Tom, "at least they won't be able to pick me up on that!"

Without a glance at the locker where Brooks continued to pound and yell, Tom turned to the hatch leading to the passageway. He gripped the paralo-ray gun and opened the hatch. Peering into the passageway and finding it deserted, he slipped out and closed the hatch behind him. From below, he could hear the roar of the crew as the last of them received his share of the stolen credits.

Tom raced down the companionway toward the jet-boat deck. He made the first deck safely and was about to climb down to the next when he was spotted by Attardi, the scar-faced spaceman, who stood at the bottom of the ladder.

"Hey, Kid!" Attardi shouted. "The skipper's been looking for ya. You got the biggest cut. Three thousand credits for that fancy shooting you did!"

Tom noticed the gleam of the knife at the man's side. The young cadet could imagine the criminal sinking the knife in his back without hesitation, if he suspected anything.

"Well," demanded Attardi, "are you going to collect or not? The skipper sent me to look for you."

Tom smiled, and while still smiling, whipped the paralo-ray gun into sight and fired. His aim was true. Attardi froze, every nerve in his body paralyzed. He could still breathe and his heart continued to beat, but otherwise, he was a living statue, unable to even blink his eyes.

Tom jumped past the spaceman and dashed for the jet-boat deck. He had to hurry now. Attardi would be discovered any moment and be neutralized. When neutralized, the victim returned to normal, with only violent muscle soreness remaining.

Tom reached the jet-boat deck, opened the hatch, and raced for the nearest small craft. Suddenly from behind he could hear the buzz of a paralo-ray on neutralizing charge. Attardi had been discovered.

Tom jumped into the nearest jet boat, closed the hatch, and pressed the button releasing the sliding side of the ship's hull. Slowly, the great wall of metal slid back exposing the cold black velvet of deep space. As soon as the opening was wide enough, Tom pressed the acceleration lever and the small ship shot out, its jets roaring.

Tom quickly glanced around to locate his position by the stars and saw that he was close to the asteroid belt. He opened up to full acceleration, and since there was nothing else to do but wait for time to pass and hope for escape, he began to examine the contents of the small ship. He opened the emergency food locker and was relieved to see it fully stocked with synthetics and water. Every second carried him farther away from the _Avenger_, and when he looked back, Tom saw no evidence of pursuit. The cadet smiled. They would depend on the radar to find him, instead of sending out the other jet boats. Tom almost laughed out loud. With the radar jammed, he was safe. He would make it. Once inside the asteroids, they would never find him.

Glancing around the few indicators on the control board of the small vessel, Tom's smile changed to a grimace of sudden terror. The jet boat had not been refueled after their raid on the jet liner. There was less than three days' oxygen remaining in the tanks. In three days the jet boat would become an airless shell. A vacuum no different than the cold silent void of space!

CHAPTER 15

"What's our position, Roger?" Captain Strong called into the intercom.

"Space quadrant B, section twenty-three, sir," replied Roger from the radar bridge. "But I can't see a thing on the radar. That static flash Tom sent out is scrambling everything."

"But you're sure this is our position?"

"Yes, sir. I checked it three times."

"All right, then," said Strong grimly. "There's only one thing to do. We're too near the asteroid belt to use the _Polaris_ without radar, so we'll search in jet boats. Astro! We're parking right here! Give me full braking rockets and secure the power deck. Then prepare the jet boats for flight."

"Aye, aye, sir," came the reply from the Venusian.

The ship bucked under the tremendous power of the braking rockets and came to a dead stop in space. Strong dashed up the ladder to the radar bridge where Roger was still hunched before the radar scanner.

"Any chance of switching the scanner to another frequency and offsetting the effects of the static, Roger?" asked the Solar Guard captain.

Roger shook his head. "I don't think so, sir. The interference would have to be eliminated at its source."

"Well," sighed Strong, "to go looking for Tom without the help of radar would be like looking for an air bubble in the ammonia clouds of Jupiter. And we don't even know if he's still aboard the _Avenger_ or not!"

"You know, sir," said Roger speculatively, "I've been thinking. I might be able to get a fix on this interference."

"A fix? How?"

"By blanking out the radar range, so that it would only work at one point of the compass at one time, then testing each heading separately until the flash appears. When it does, we'd at least know in which direction to blast off and trail Coxine.

"If you can do that, Roger," exclaimed Strong, "it would take us right into Coxine's lap! Do you think you can work it?"

"I can try, sir."

"All right, then," decided Strong. "Astro and I will take the jet boats and go looking around. Meantime, you stay aboard and try to pin point the heading on that flash."

"Very well, sir," replied Roger, and turned to the radar to begin the complicated task of rewiring the instrument.

Strong went directly to the jet-boat deck where Astro was busily preparing the jet boats for flight. He looked up when Strong entered the hatch.

"All ready, sir," he said.

"Very well," said Strong. "I'll take number one, you take number two. We're in section twenty-three of quadrant B. You take section twenty-two and I'll take twenty-four."

"Yes, sir," replied Astro. "Do you think there's any chance of finding Tom?"

"I don't even know if he's out here, Astro. But we can't be sure he isn't. So we'll search and hope for the best."

"Very well, sir."

"Keep your jet-boat audioceiver open all the time and maintain contact with me."

"Why not contact Roger here on the _Polaris_, sir?" asked Astro.

"He's busy trying to find out where the flashing static on the radar is coming from," explained Strong. "We'll make wide circles, starting outside and working in. Blast in a continuous circle inward, like a spiral. If there's anything around here, we'll find it that way."

"Yes, sir," said Astro. "I sure hope Tom is O.K."

"Best answer I can give you. Astro, is to blast off and find out."

The two spacemen climbed into the small craft, and while Strong opened the outer lock, exposing them to the emptiness of space, Astro started the jets in his boat. With a wave of his hand to Strong, he roared away from the sleek rocket cruiser. Strong followed right on his tail. They circled the _Polaris_ twice, establishing their positions, and then roared away from each other to begin their search.

Astro turned his midget space vessel toward the asteroid belt, ahead and below him. Choosing a large asteroid that he estimated to be on the outer edge of section twenty-two, he roared full power toward it. The tiny space bodies that made up the dangerous path around the sun, between Mars and Jupiter, loomed ahead ominously. Moving toward them under full rocket thrust, the Venusian cadet remembered fleetingly stories of survivors of space wrecks, reaching the airless little planetoids, only to die when help failed to arrive. He shuddered at the thought of Tom, a helpless castaway on one of the asteroids, waiting to be saved. Astro clenched his teeth and concentrated on the search, determined to investigate every stone large enough to support an Earthman.

Miles away, no longer visible to Astro and out of sight of the giant rocket cruiser, Captain Strong felt the same helplessness as he approached the asteroid belt from a different angle. He realized any number of things could have happened on the pirate-ship. Tom could have been captured, or if not yet discovered, unable to escape from the ship. Strong's throat choked up with fierce pride over the gallant effort Tom had made to warn the Solar Guard of the _Avenger's_ position.

As he neared the outer edges of the belt, he concentrated on guiding his small ship in and around the drifting asteroids, his eyes constantly sweeping the area around him for some sign of a drifting space-suited figure. What Strong really hoped for was the sight of a jet boat, since in a jet boat, Tom would have a better chance of survival.

The young captain reached the outer edge of his search perimeter, turned the small ship into a long-sweeping curve, and flipped on the audioceiver.

"Attention! Attention! Jet boat one to jet boat two! Come in, Astro!"

Across the wide abyss of space that separated the two men, Astro heard his skipper's voice crackle in his headphones.

"Astro here, sir," he replied.

"I'm beginning my sweep, Astro. Any luck?"

"Not a thing, sir."

"All right. Let's go, and keep a sharp eye out."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Astro. He could not keep the worry out of his voice, and Strong, many miles away, nodded in silent agreement with Astro's feelings.

* * * * *

The _Avenger_ had long since disappeared and Tom was left alone in space in the tiny jet boat. To conserve his oxygen supply, the curly-haired cadet had set the controls of his boat on a steady orbit around one of the larger asteroids and lay down quietly on the deck. One of the first lessons he had learned at Space Academy was, during an emergency in space when oxygen was low, to lie down and breath as slowly as possible. And, if possible, to go to sleep. Sleep, under such conditions, served two purposes. While relaxed in sleep, the body used less oxygen and should help fail to arrive, the victim would slip into a suffocating unconsciousness, not knowing if and when death took the place of life.

Tom lay on the deck of the small vessel and stared at the distant stars through the clear crystal roof of his jet boat. He breathed as lightly as he could, taking short, slight breaths, holding them as long as he could and then exhaling only when his lungs felt as if they would burst. He could see Regulus overhead, and Sirius, the two great stars shining brilliantly in the absolute blackness of space. He raised himself slowly on one elbow and looked at the oxygen indicator. He saw that the needle had dropped past the empty mark. He knew it wouldn't be long now. And he knew what he had to do. He took a last long look at the two giant stars, and then closed his eyes.

Tom no longer tried to control his breathing, but took deep satisfying lungfuls of oxygen and in a few moments slipped into a sound sleep.

The jet boat roared on, carrying its sleeping occupant in an endless spiral around the nameless asteroid.

Not too many miles away, alone on the radar bridge of the giant rocket cruiser, Roger Manning, sweat popping out on his forehead, was trying the radar scanner on the three-hundred-and-tenth point on the compass. He connected the wires, glanced at the scanner, and shook his head disgustedly. The scanner screen was still dark. Having adjusted the delicate mechanism to eliminate the white flashes of static, he couldn't find them again. He sat back in his chair for a moment, mopping his brow and watching the white hairline in its continuous swing around the face of the scope. As the line swept to the top of the screen, he saw the blip outline of a jet boat and recognized it as one belonging to the _Polaris_. Then, slowly, the line swept down and Roger suddenly saw the blip outline of a second craft. With the experienced eye of a radar veteran, Roger was able not only to distinguish the jet boats from the asteroids, but from each other. He gripped the edge of the instrument and shouted at the top of his voice. The second boat was a different model!

He reached for the audioceiver and switched it on.

"Attention! Attention! Captain Strong! Astro! Come in! This is Manning aboard the _Polaris_! Come in!"

Strong and Astro replied almost together.

"Strong here!"

"Astro here!"

"I've spotted a jet boat!" Roger shouted. "You think it might be--"

"Where?" bawled Astro before Roger could finish. "Where is it, you rockethead?"

"As close as I can figure it, he's circling an asteroid, a big one, at the intersection of sections twenty-one and twenty-two!"

"Twenty-one and twenty-two! Got it!" yelled Astro.

"I'll meet you there, Astro!" said Strong.

Astro and Strong turned their small ships in the direction of the intersecting space sections. Astro was the first to spot the asteroid, but for a moment he couldn't see the jet boat on the opposite side of the small celestial body. Meanwhile, Strong, coming from the other direction, saw the boat and relayed the position to Astro. In a few moments the two space craft had regulated their speeds to that of Tom's ship and were hastily donning space suits. A quick look inside had shown them Tom's sleeping body. As Astro started to open the crystal hatch of his ship to cross over to the other, Strong yelled over the audioceiver.

"Astro, wait!"

Astro looked across at the captain's ship questioningly.

"Tom isn't in a space suit. If we open the hatch it would kill him. We've got to tow him back to the _Polaris_ and get his boat inside the air lock before we can open the hatch!"

Without a word, Astro nodded, ducked inside his ship, and climbed out again with a length of rope. Working quickly, he tied one end securely to the bow of Tom's jet boat and made the other end fast to the stern of his. Then returning to his cockpit, he sent the jet boat hurtling back toward the _Polaris_.

But he was still faced with the problem of getting Tom's jet boat inside the air lock. It was still under acceleration and there was no way to get inside to stop its jet motors. Astro called to Strong and explained the situation to him.

"Looks like the only thing we can do, sir, is keep going until it runs out of fuel."

"That might take too long, Astro," replied Strong. "No telling how much oxygen Tom has left."

"There's nothing else we can do, sir," replied Astro. "We can't brake her to land inside the _Polaris_ and we can't open the hatch to turn off the motor. We'll have to take a chance on Tom lasting until it runs out of fuel!"

Inside the roaring craft, Tom suddenly opened his eyes. He began to cough. There was a roaring in his ears. The stars overhead swam dizzily. And then, as though through a billowing mist, he saw the jet boat ahead of him and the rope tied to his ship. He realized he had been rescued. He tried to signal them. He had to let them know he needed oxygen. He tried to reach the communicator near the control panel but could not lift his arm. He fell back to the deck gasping for air; his lungs screaming for oxygen. Something, thought Tom through the haze that fogged his brain, something to signal them. Then, with the last of his strength, he raised up on one elbow and reached for the acceleration lever. His fingers trembled a few inches away from their goal. His face began to turn violent red. He strained a little more. The lever was an inch away. Finally, with the very last ounce of his strength, he touched the lever and pulled it back by the weight of his falling body.

Even before the black cloud swept over him, Tom could hear the jets become silent. He had signaled them. He had stopped the jet boat. They would know, now, how to save him.

CHAPTER 16

"... and you never picked up that static flash again, eh?" mused Strong, looking at Roger. "Well, the only reason I can think of is that someone aboard the _Avenger_ must have discovered what was happening."

"That's the way I figure it, sir," replied Roger.

The Solar Guard captain studied the scanner that was now working in perfect order. "It's a tough break that we couldn't get that fix on Coxine's position. I was counting on it. But at least we found Tom. That's plenty to be thankful for."

"How is he, sir?" asked Roger.

"He'll be all right," replied the Solar Guard captain, his face showing the strain of the past weeks. "We gave him pure oxygen and he came to long enough to tell us what happened aboard the _Avenger_. Get me teleceiver contact with Space Academy as soon as possible. I've got to send a report to Commander Walters."

"Right, sir."

"You've done a good job, Manning. Your work here on the radar bridge did as much toward saving Tom's life as anything."

"Thank you, sir. After what Tom did on the _Avenger_, though, I don't feel like I've done very much. It took real courage to go aboard that ship with Coxine."

Strong smiled wearily. "Well, the boy is safe now and we have a good idea what part of the belt Coxine is operating in. With a little luck and a thorough fleet patrol, we might be able to get him before he can do any more harm."

Strong went below to the cadet's quarters where Astro was sitting quietly, watching Tom. The cadet was sound asleep. When Strong entered, Astro held a finger to his lips and met the captain at the door.

"How is he?" whispered Strong.

"He's been sleeping since he spoke to you, sir," said Astro. "He's pretty weak, but I don't think there's anything seriously wrong with him. After a good rest, he'll be as good as new."

"Thank the universe for that," breathed Strong. He glanced at the sleeping cadet and then turned back to Astro. "Better take your station. He'll be all right now. I want to get back to the Academy as soon as I can."

"Yes, sir."

"Attention, Captain Strong," Roger's voice crackled over the intercom loud-speaker. "I've made contact with Commander Walters at Space Academy, sir. He's standing by for your report."

Strong returned to the control deck where he saw the sharp image of the Space Academy commander waiting on the teleceiver screen.

He told the grim-faced senior officer of discovering the static Morse code flashes sent out by Tom from the Avenger and the race to save Tom's life. When he finished, the commander's face seemed to relax.

"When Corbett wakes up, give him my personal congratulations, Steve. That goes for Astro, Roger, and yourself, as well."

"Thank you, sir," said Strong. "Since Coxine seems to be operating exclusively out of the asteroid belt, I think it would be a good idea to concentrate the entire fleet of patrol ships in that area."

"Good idea! I'll set it up. But get back here as soon as possible, Steve. Coxine and that crew on the _Avenger_ aren't sitting still."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"In the last three days we've had reports from seven ships. Jet liners, passenger freighters, and supply ships. All were attacked by the _Avenger_ and stripped of everything those criminals could load on their murderous backs. Blasters, paralo-ray guns, whole and synthetic foodstuffs, clothes, money, jewels, equipment. Everything under the stars that they could use. Any ship that even comes close to the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, unless escorted, is a dead space bird. And if we did provide an escort, we wouldn't have enough ships left to carry on the search."

Strong listened to the news with rising anger.

"I'll blast back to the Academy as soon as I can, sir," said Strong.

"Fine!" said the commander. "End transmission!"

"End transmission!"

Strong turned off the teleceiver and called Roger onto the radar bridge.

"Have you got a course back to the Academy, Roger?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, give it to Astro and let's get moving. Every minute wasted now is the difference between a ship looted and the future safety of the space lanes. I have a feeling that Coxine is not just playing for the hauls he makes on those helpless jet liners."

"I don't get you, sir."

"Look at it this way, Roger," replied Strong with a grim smile. "A man smart enough to do what he did while he was confined to a prison asteroid might have bigger ideas now that he's free. Ideas about himself and the whole Solar Alliance!"

During the weeks following, the activity of Bull Coxine and his pirate crew justified Captain Strong's fears. Repeatedly, ships were attacked on the fringe of the asteroid belt and stripped of armor, food supplies, and valuables. With the secret of the light-key, the vaults of the ships were opened as easily as though there had been no lock at all. The totals had reached staggering amounts and the daring of the _Avenger_ was more pronounced, as Coxine struck repeatedly, farther and farther away from the protection of the asteroid belt. It seemed as though he were taunting the Solar Guard with his exploits.

All defense measures seemed to be futile. When the space freighters and jet liners were armed and tried to resist attack, Coxine blasted them into helpless space junk at a frightful cost of life. When the ships were escorted by powerful rocket cruisers, the pirate refused to attack, but the search squadrons were correspondingly depleted. The combinations of the energy locks were changed every day, but with the adjustable light-key, Coxine met every change easily. The entire Solar Alliance was in an uproar, and the citizens of the planets were clamoring for action.

[Illustration: _All Solar Guard defense measures seemed to be futile_]

Finally, the commanding officers of the Solar Guard noticed a change in Coxine's operations. Instead of merely attacking spaceships and hijacking their cargoes, he now took over the vessel completely, sending the passengers and crews drifting helplessly in space in jet boats. Three large, fast space freighters of the same class as the _Avenger_ were now in the pirates' hands.

Then, one morning, in his headquarters at Space Academy, Captain Strong received an electrifying report. Coxine had attacked a freighter escorted by a Solar Guard rocket scout. Outgunned, the scout had been destroyed, but it had inflicted damage on the _Avenger_. The last report from a dying communications officer on the scout was that the pirate ship was drifting helplessly in space!

Strong, his face showing hope for the first time in weeks, burned the teleceivers, flashing orders to the various elements of the search fleet to converge on the disabled _Avenger_.

"Attention! All ships in quadrants C through M and Q through B-l! Proceed full thrust to quadrant A-2, section fifty-nine. On approaching target you will signal standard surrender message, and if not obeyed, you will open fire!"

Behind him, the three cadets of the _Polaris_ unit listened to the decisive words of their commander and then let out an earsplitting yell.

"No time for celebrating," barked Strong. "We haven't caught him yet. He's the slickest thing to hit this system since the reptiles climbed out of the Venusian mud! It's going to be a case of our getting him before he can disappear into the asteroid belt, so let's hit the high, wide, and deep!"

Five minutes later, Strong and the boys were aboard their ship.

"Ready to blast off, sir," reported Tom. The curly-haired cadet's face was still pale and drawn, showing the effects of his ordeal in space.

"Get me direct teleceiver contact with Captain Randolph on the rocket cruiser _Sirius_," ordered Strong.

"Yes, sir," replied Tom. He turned to flip on the teleceiver, and a moment later the captain's face appeared on the screen.

"Randolph here. What's up, Steve?"

"I've got Squadron Nineteen of the Martian reserve fleet heading for the last reported position of the _Avenger_ now, Randy. I'll take the point position of your squadron and direct operations. I'll relay course to you as soon as we're in space."

"O.K., Steve," replied Randolph. "I'm ready to raise ship."

"I'll go up first. Form up around me at about five thousand miles. End transmission!"

"End transmission!"

"All right, Tom," ordered Strong, "let's get out of here!"

The young cadet strapped himself into his acceleration chair, then picked up the control panel intercom and began calling out orders crisply.

"Stand by to raise ship! All stations check in!"

"Power deck standing by!" replied Astro from below.

"Radar bridge standing by!" acknowledged Roger over the intercom.

"Energize the cooling pumps!"

The whine of the mighty pumps began to fill the ship almost as quickly as Astro acknowledged the order.

"Feed reactant!" snapped Strong, strapping himself in beside Tom.

A low-muted hiss joined the sound of the whining pumps as Tom opened the valves. "Reactant feeding at D-9 rate, sir," he reported.

"Roger," called Strong into the intercom, "do we have a clear trajectory?"

"Clear as space, skipper!" was Roger's breezy answer.

"All right, Tom," said Strong, "cut in take-off gyros."

The cadet closed the master switch on the control panel and the noise from the power deck below began to build to an unbearable crescendo!

Watching the sweeping second hand of the chronometer, Tom called out, "Blast off minus five--four--three--two--one--_zero_!"

With a mighty roar, all main rockets of the spaceship exploded into life. Shuddering under the sudden surge of power, the ship rose from the ground, accelerated at the rate of seven miles per second, and arrowed into the sky, space-borne!

On the Academy spaceport, ships of Squadron L began to blast off one by one behind the _Polaris_ at ten-second intervals. Three rocket cruisers, six destroyers, and twelve rocket scouts. The explosive blast of one hardly rolling away across the surrounding hills before another deafening blast lifted the next space vessel away from Earth.

Aboard the _Polaris_, Roger was busy over the chart table plotting the course when Strong appeared at his side.

"Have that course for you in a minute, sir," said Roger. He turned to the astrogation prism and made careful observations of Regulus, the fixed star always used in astrogation. He jotted several numbers down on a piece of paper, rechecked them against a table of relative values and handed the papers to Strong.

The captain immediately opened the teleceiver and relayed the information to other ships of the squadron. After the _Polaris_ had made the course change, the ships followed, taking positions all around the lead vessel.

Like fingers of a giant hand, the Solar Guard squadrons converged on the reported position of the disabled _Avenger_. From every ship, radar scanners probed the space ahead with invisible electronic fingers for contact with the target. On the _Polaris_, Strong, his nimble brain figuring Coxine's possibilities of escape, hunched over the chart table and worked at plotting alternate courses on which he could send pursuit squadrons on a moment's notice. One thing worried Strong, and that was if Coxine should repair his ship and make the security of the asteroid belt before they could reach him, it would be almost impossible to track him through that tortuous maze of space junk.

Squadron Ten was the first to sight the enemy spaceship, though it was too far away to attack. The commander reported his finding to Strong immediately.

"We still have quite a way to go before we reach him, Strong. But if our luck holds out, we might be able to pin him down in a wide circle."

Strong studied the chart and marked the position of the _Avenger_ just reported. He compared the position to that of the other fleet ships and decided that they were still too far away to tighten a ring of armor around the pirate. Strong was well aware that if the Solar Guard could spot Coxine, he in turn could spot them. Luck, mused Strong to himself, was what they needed now. A little luck to keep the pirate from repairing his ship and disappearing into the asteroid belt. He grabbed the intercom and bawled orders.

"Power deck, emergency space speed. Control deck, relay that order to every ship converging on the _Avenger's_ position!"

"What's up, sir?" asked Tom from below.

"One of the ships has spotted Coxine. He's apparently still out of commission, but we're too far away to hail him."

Strong began to pace the deck of the radar bridge, and with each turn, he glanced at the radar scanner where Roger was waiting anxiously for the telltale blip of the _Avenger_ to appear.

Suddenly the blond-haired cadet stiffened. He peered at the scanner screen, then cried, "There he is, sir!" His finger pointed to a white outline on the scanner.

Strong took a quick look at the pirate's position and compared it to the positions of the converging fleet. He turned to the teleceiver and signaled for the immediate attention of all ships.

"This is Strong aboard the flagship _Polaris_! All ships will proceed according to attack plan seventeen--code nine. Use full power! Emergency thrust!"

As the minutes passed and the Solar Guard fleet plunged forward, the ships forged a solid wall of guns around the drifting pirate vessel. From above, below, and almost every compass point on the plan of the ecliptic, they closed in, deadly blasters aimed, gunners ready to fire.

"We've got him, sir!" breathed Roger. "He can't escape now! Not in a million light years!"

Captain Strong didn't reply. Eyes were glued to the scanner, watching the target and the Solar Guard squadrons, searching for every possible loophole in the trap. Suddenly he spoke into the teleceiver.

"Attention all ships! Maintain present range, reduce speed, and take englobement formation!"

In reply, the elements of the fleet smoothly reformed until they formed a giant wheel in space with the pirate ship as the hub. Around and around they flew, all inboard guns trained on the enemy.

As the command ship, the _Polaris_ flew high over the formation. Strong checked the formation carefully on the scanner and nodded his satisfaction.

"I think we've done it now, Manning," he sighed. "Coxine doesn't have a chance of breaking through."

Roger looked unhappy. "Ah, it was too easy, sir," he grumbled. "I was counting on having some fun."