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"There goes number one," said Tom to his unit mates as they watched from a vantage point near one of the service hangars.

"He got a pretty shaky start there at the ramp," commented Astro. "He must've poured on so much power, he couldn't control the ship."

"Heads up, fellas," announced Roger suddenly. "Here comes work." Kit Barnard was walking toward them, carrying a small metallic object in his hand.

"'Morning, boys," said Kit with a weary smile. His eyes were bloodshot. The cadets knew he had worked all night to revise and resubmit his specification sheet to Strong.

"'Morning, sir," said Tom.

"I'd like to have you O.K. this gear unit. I made it last night."

Astro took the gear and examined it closely.

"Looks fine to me," he said finally, handing it back. "Part of your main pumps?"

"Why, yes," replied Kit, surprised. "Say, you seem to know your business."

"Only the best rocket buster in space, sir," chimed in Tom. "He eats, sleeps, and dreams about machinery on a power deck."

"Is that for your new reactor, sir?" asked Astro.

"Yes. Want to come over and take a look at it?"

"Want to!" exclaimed Roger. "You couldn't keep him away with a ray gun, Captain Barnard."

"Fine," said Kit. "Incidentally, I'm not in the Solar Guard any more; don't even hold a reserve commission, so you don't have to 'sir' me. I'd prefer just plain Kit. O.K.?"

The three boys grinned. "O.K., Kit," said Tom.

Astro began to fidget and Tom nudged Roger. "Think we can spare the Venusian for a little while?"

"Might as well let him go," grunted Roger. "He'd only sneak off later, anyway."

Astro grinned sheepishly. "If anyone wants me to check anything, I'll be over at Kit's. Where is your ship?" he asked the veteran spaceman.

"Hangar Fourteen. Opposite the main entrance gate."

"Fine, that's where I'll be, fellows. See you later."

With Astro bending over slightly to hear what Kit was saying, the two men walked away. Roger shook his head. "You know, I still can't get used to that guy. He acts like a piece of machinery was a good-looking space doll!"

"I've seen you look the same way at your radarscope, Roger."

"Yeah, but it's different with me."

"Is it?" said Tom, turning away so that Roger would not see him laughing. And as he did, he saw something that made him pause. In front of the hangar, Captain Strong was talking to Quent Miles. There was no mistaking the tall spaceman in his severe black clothes.

"Here comes more work," muttered Tom. Quent had turned away from Strong and was walking toward them.

"Strong said I had to get you to O.K. this scope," said Quent with a sneer. "Hurry it up! I haven't got all day."

He handed them a radarscope that was common equipment on small pleasure yachts, and was considerably lighter in weight than the type used on larger freight vessels.

"What's the gross weight of your ship?" asked Roger after a quick glance at the large glass tube with a crystal surface that had been polished to a smooth finish.

"Two thousand tons," said Quent. "Why?"

Roger shook his head. "This is too small, Mr. Miles. You will have to use the standard operational scope."

"But it's too big."

"I'm sorry, sir—" began Roger.

"Sorry!" Quent exploded. "Give me that tube, you squirt." He snatched it out of Roger's hand. "I'm using this scope whether you like it or not!"

"If you use that scope," said Tom coldly, "your ship will be disqualified."

Quent glared at the two boys for a moment, his black eyes cold and hard. "They make kids feel mighty important around here, don't they?"

"They give us jobs to do," said Roger. "Usually we can handle them fine. Occasionally we run into a space-gassing bum and he makes things difficult, but we manage to take care of him."

Quent stepped forward in a threatening manner, but Roger did not move. "Listen," the spaceman snarled, "stay out of my way, you young punk, or I'll blast you."

"Don't ever make the mistake of touching me, Mister," said Roger calmly. "You might