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"It's a good guess. We were following the tyrannosaurus's trail when they caught us, and I'm pretty sure Astro had been doing the same thing."

"Stop that talking!" snapped Drifi, suddenly whirling on them. "You," he shouted at one of the guards, "get up here and keep them apart!"

A guard stepped quickly between Tom and Connel, and the conversation ended.

At the exit Connel and Tom stopped involuntarily at the sight before them. Astro had entered the canyon near twilight, but the two spacemen got a view of the Nationalists' base under the full noon sun. Connel gasped and muttered a space oath. Tom turned halfway to his superior and was starting to speak when both were shoved rudely ahead. "Keep moving," a guard growled.

As they walked, their eyes flicked over the canyon, alert for details. Tom counted the ships arrayed neatly on the spaceport some distance away, then counted others outside repair shops with men scurrying over them like so many ants. Near the center of the canyon the bare trunk of a giant teakwood soared skyward, a gigantic communications tower. Tom scanned the revolving antenna, and from its shape and size deduced the power and type of radar being used at the base. He admitted to himself that the Nationalists had the latest and best. Connel was busy too, noting buildings of identical design scattered around the canyon floor that were too small to be spaceship hangars or storage depots. He guessed that they were housings for vacuum-tube elevator shafts that led to underground caves.

The canyon echoed with the splutter of arc welders, the slow banging of iron workers, the cough and hissing of jet sleds, the roar of activity that meant deadly danger to the Solar Alliance. Connel noticed as he moved across the canyon floor that the workers were in good spirits. The morale of the rebels, thought the space officer, was good! Too good!

At a momentary halt in their march, when Drifi stopped to speak with a sentry, Tom and Connel found an opportunity to speak again.

"I've counted a dozen big converted freighters on the blast ramps, sir," whispered Tom hurriedly. "Three more being repaired, nearly finished, and there are about fifty smaller ships, all heavily armed."

"That checks with my count, Tom," replied Connel hurriedly. "What do you make of the radar?"

"At least as good as we have!"

"I thought so, too! If a Solar Guard squadron tried to attack this base now, they'd be spotted and blasted out of space!"

"What about stores, sir?" asked Tom. "I didn't see anything like a supply depot."

Connel told him of the small buildings which he believed housed the elevator shafts to underground storerooms. "Only one thing is missing!" he concluded.

"What's that, sir?"

"The nuclear chambers where they produce ammunition for their fleet."

"It must be underground too, sir," said Tom. "There isn't a building in the canyon that's made of concrete and steel."

"Right. Either that, or it's back up there in the cliffs in one of those tunnels!" The officer snorted. "By the stars, Corbett, this place is an atom bomb ready to go off in the lap of the Solar Alliance."

"What are we going to do, sir?" asked Tom. "So far, it looks as if it's going to be tough to get out again."

"We'll have to wait for a break, Tom," sighed Connel.

"I hope they've taken good care of Roger," said the cadet in a low voice. "And I hope they've got Astro."

"Watch it," warned Connel. "Drifi's coming back. Remember, if we're separated and you do manage to escape, get back to Sinclair's. Contact Commander Walters and tell him everything that's happened. The code name for direct emergency contact through Solar Guard communications center in Venusport is Juggernaut!"

"Juggernaut!" repeated Tom in a whisper. "Very well, sir. But I sure hope we aren't separated."

"Well have to take what comes. Sh! Here he comes."

"All right, let's go," said the patrol leader.

They continued across the canyon until they reached a four-story wooden structure without windows. Drifi opened a small door and motioned them inside.