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"Yeah. He's leaving as soon as he knows we've won the time trials. Now get back to the spaceport and take care of Barnard's ship."

Quent slipped his hand inside his tunic and patted the lead container. "Too bad this isn't a baby bomb," he muttered. "We could be sure Barnard wouldn't finish."

"He's finished right now, but he doesn't know it." Brett smiled. "He's borrowed heavily just on this race, and when he loses, the banks will close him up. Kit Barnard is through."

CHAPTER 5

"We regret to announce that the spaceship La Belle France, piloted by Gigi Duarte, has crashed!"

Captain Strong's voice was choked with emotion as he made the announcement over the spaceport public-address system. There was an audible groan of sympathy from the thousands of spectators in the grandstands. In spite of every precaution for safety, death had visited the spaceways.

Strong continued, "We have just received official confirmation from Luna City that the Paris-Venusport Transfer Company entry exploded in space soon after leaving Luna City. Captain Duarte had flown the first leg of the race from Earth to the Moon in record time."

The Solar Guard officer snapped off the microphone and turned to Tom, Roger, and Astro. "It's hard to believe that the French Chicken won't be shuttling from Paris to Venusport any more," he murmured.

"Are there any details, sir?" asked Tom.

"You know there are never any details, Corbett," said Strong with a little edge in his voice. Then he immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, Tom. Gigi was an old friend."

The door behind them opened and an enlisted spaceman stepped inside, saluting smartly. "Ready for the next blast-off, Captain Strong," he announced.

"Who is it?" asked Strong, turning to the intercom connecting him with the control tower that co-ordinated all the landings and departures at the spaceport.

The spaceman referred to a clipboard. "It's the Space Lance, sir. Piloted by Captain Sticoon. He's representing an independent company from Marsopolis."

"Right, thanks." Strong turned to the intercom mike, calling, "Captain Strong to control tower, check in."

"Say, I'd like to see this fellow blast," said Tom. "He's supposed to be one of the hottest pilots ever to hit space."

"Yeah," agreed Roger. "He's so good I don't see how anyone else could have a chance."

"With that hot rocket in this race," said Astro, "the others will have to fight for second and third place."

"Control tower to Strong," a voice crackled over the intercom loud-speaker. "Ready here, sir."

"Right. Stand by for the next flight, Mac," replied Strong. "It's Sticoon."

Strong flipped a switch on the intercom to direct contact with the waiting ship and gave Sticoon the oft-repeated final briefing, concluding, "Do not go beyond the necessary limitations of fuel consumption that are provided for in the Solar Guard space code. If you return here with less than a quarter supply of reactant fuel, you will be disqualified. Stand by to blast off!"

"Uh-huh!" was all the acknowledgment Strong received from the Martian. Famed for his daring, Sticoon was also known for his taciturn personality.

"Clear ramp! Clear ramp!" Strong boomed over the public-address system. When he received the all-clear from the enlisted spaceman on the ramp, Strong flipped both the public-address system and the intercom on. "Stand by to raise ship!"

He glanced at the astral chronometer. "Blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one—zero!"

Tom, Roger, and Astro crowded to the viewport in Strong's command shack to watch the bulky Martian's ship take to space. With Sticoon at the controls, there was no hesitation. He gave the ship full throttle from the moment of blast-off and in three seconds was out of sight. There wasn't much to see at such speed.

The three members of the Polaris unit left the shack to return to their task of inspection. They passed the maintenance hangar where Kit Barnard was readying his ship for blast-off in the next half hour.

"Any last-minute hitches, Kit?" asked Astro, vitally interested in the new reactor unit and its cooling system.