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"Where's the communicator?" asked Tom.

"Over by the radar scanner." Sinclair eyed him suspiciously. "Remember, Corbett, your life depends on this as much as mine. If you don't convince them you're worth saving by letting me get away, you're a dead pigeon!"

"You don't have to tell me," said Tom. "I know when I'm licked."

Sinclair took his position in the pilot's chair, facing the control panel. For a brief moment his back was to Tom as he bent over to turn on the generators. Tom took a deep breath and lurched across the deck. But Sinclair turned and saw him coming, and jerked up the ray gun. He wasn't able to get clear in time. Tom's fingers circled the barrel of the gun as Sinclair fired. The barrel grew hot as Sinclair fired repeatedly. Tom's fingers were beginning to blister under the intense heat, but he held on. With his other hand he reached up for the rebel's throat. Sinclair grabbed his wrist and, locked together, they rolled around on the deck.

Sinclair continued to fire the ray gun and Tom's fingers were burning with pain from the heat. Suddenly the cadet let go the gun, spun around, and jerked Sinclair off balance. He swung his free hand as hard as he could into the rebel's stomach. Sinclair doubled over and staggered back, dropping the gun. Tom was on top of him like a shot, pounding straight, jolting rights and lefts to the man's head and stomach. But Sinclair was tough. He twisted around, and quick as a cat, jumped to his feet. Then, stepping in, he rapped a solid right to Tom's jaw. The cadet reeled back, nearly falling to the deck. Sinclair was in on top of him in a flash, pounding his head and body with vicious smashing blows.

Sinclair wasn't able to get clear in time

Tom fell to the floor under the savagery of the rebel leader's attack. Sinclair lifted his foot to kick the cadet as Tom's fingers tightened around the barrel of the discarded ray gun. He brought it up sharply against the planter's shin and he staggered back in pain. Tom took careful aim. He fired the gun. Nothing happened. The gun was empty.

Sinclair rushed the cadet again, but Tom stepped aside and swung the heavy gun with all his might. The metal smashed against Sinclair's head and he sank to the deck, out cold.

The last rebel of Venus had been defeated.

* * * * *

"We found Roger trying to keep the slaves away from the guards," said Strong. "They were ready to tear them apart!"

"Can't say that I blame them," snorted Connel. "Some of those poor devils had been working in the caves for three years!"

Tom, Roger, and Astro sat sprawled in chairs in one of the offices of the Nationalist headquarters listening to Strong and Major Connel sum up the day's battle. The entire army of Nationalist guards, Division Chiefs, and workers had been rounded up and put aboard the troop carriers to be taken to a prison asteroid. Each individual rebel would be dealt with under special court proceedings to be established by Solar Alliance decree later.

"There are still some things I don't understand," said Astro. "How did they know you were going to investigate them in the first place?"

"After our meeting with Commander Walters," said Connel, "we sent a special coded message to the Solar Alliance Delegate here on Venus. His secretary intercepted the message, used stolen priorities for himself and two assistants to get to Earth and back on an express space liner without being missed."

"The secretary!" shouted Tom. "That's the same fellow I saw in Atom City when we were bumped out of our seats on the Venus Lark!"

Roger looked up at Tom with a scowl. "A fine time to remember!"

Strong grinned. "We discovered him, Tom, when that attempt was made to kidnap you by the cab driver. We also picked up the owner of the pawnshop."

"The most amazing thing about this space joker, Sinclair," commented Connel, "was the way he had everyone fooled. I couldn't figure out how he was able to get around so quickly until I learned about those buildings."

"What buildings?"