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"All right. Tom, I guess that means you ride with Wild Bill Sticoon."

"That's all right with me, sir," the young cadet said excitedly. "This is something I'll be able to tell my grandchildren—riding with the hottest spaceman in the hottest race through space."

* * * * *

Quent Miles spun around, his paralo-ray gun leveled. He saw a figure enter through the hatch, but when light revealed the face he relaxed.

"Oh, it's you!" he grumbled. "I thought you were setting things up back at Atom City."

"You fumble-fisted, space-gassing jerk!" snarled Charley Brett. "Depend on you to get things messed up! That Barnard guy is all set to roll with his reactor!"

"Then why didn't Ross take care of him on the Moon?" asked Miles.

"He didn't land," replied Brett. "He kept going and made the whole trip without refueling that new unit of his. It's so good that he got back here still carrying half a tank of reactant."

"Well, you haven't any kick with me," asserted Miles. "I dumped that stuff in his tanks."

"Then how come he made it so fast?" growled Brett. "How come he made it at all?"

"How should I know?" snapped Quent. "Listen, Charley, lay off me. You might be able to order Ross around, but you don't scare me. And I don't think you have Ross fooled either."

"Never mind that now!" said Brett irritably. "We've got to line things up for the race. Listen! Ross left Luna City this morning for the hide-out. Here's what I want you to do. After you blast off—" Brett's voice dropped to a whisper and Quent's eyes opened with understanding, and then his rugged features broke out into a grin as Brett continued talking.

Finally Brett straightened up. "I'm going on out to Titan now to see if things are O.K. You got everything clear?"

"Everything's clear," said Quent. "And you know something, Charley? You have a nasty way about you, but you certainly know how to figure the angles. This is perfect. We can't miss."

"I love you too, sweetheart," said Brett sourly. He turned and hurried out of the ship. Just before he stepped on the slidewalk that would take him to the monorail station, he saw the three members of the Polaris unit leaving Kit Barnard's installation. He grinned and made a mocking salute to them in the darkness.

"So long suckers!" he called softly.

CHAPTER 7

"What!"

Quent Miles looked at Strong and then back at Roger. "You mean this jerk's going to ride with me?"

Roger Manning squared his shoulders and stuck out his chin. "Let's make the most of this, Miles," he said. "I don't like it any more than you do. I wouldn't like to be watched, either, if I had just crawled out from under a rock."

Strong suppressed a grin and then turned back to Quent. "That's the way it is, Miles. Commander Walters' orders. There's nothing that can be done now. Cadets Manning, Corbett, and Astro have been given these assignments because they have worked so closely on the race project, and, I might add, you couldn't ask for a better astrogator should you get into trouble."

"The day I'll ask for help from a kid still wet behind the ears is the day I'll stop flying," snarled Miles.

Strong shrugged. "You either consent to the regulations, or disqualify yourself from the race."

The spaceman's face turned a dusky red under his swarthy complexion. "All right, all right! If that's the way it is, that's the way we'll play it. But I'm warning you, Manning, stay away from me."

Strong glanced at his wrist chronograph. "You have five minutes before the blast-off, stand by." He shook hands with Roger. "Good luck, Roger, and be careful. And remember, Captain Miles has already proved himself a crackerjack spaceman. Don't interfere with him."

"Yes, sir," said Roger.

"Good luck, Miles," said Strong and offered his hand. Quent ignored it.

"Thanks for nothing," he sneered. "I know how much you want me to have."

"The best man wins," snapped Strong. He turned on his heels and left the black ship.

Quent Miles and Roger faced each other. "All right, Manning," said Miles after he had closed the air lock, "take your station.