"Attention! Attention! This is Captain Maitland of the rocket cruiser Orion reporting to Captain Strong at Space Academy. Come in, Strong!"

High in the Tower of Galileo overlooking Space Academy, the Solar Guard officer, his face showing the strain of the last three-weeks' futile search for Wallace and Simms, flipped on the teleceiver and replied, "Strong here. Go ahead, Maitland."

Tom, Astro, Roger, and Commander Walters stood behind Strong and waited tensely for the last report to come in. Maintland's voice crackled through millions of miles of space.

"We've searched space quadrants A through D, sections twenty-one through one hundred thirty-eight. Constant six-way radar sweep of the area. No sign of Wallace and Simms."

Strong sighed deeply and replied, "All right, Maitland. Thank you. You may return to base. End transmission."

"End transmission!" signaled Maitland, and the crackling static died out in the quiet room.

Walters stepped forward and placed his hand on Strong's shoulder. "Don't let it get you down, Steve," he said. "I saw the zone search you set up for those two. No one could have done more."

"Maybe not, sir," said Strong, getting up, "but we didn't catch them."

"Not yet," frowned the commander grimly, "but we will! Well, there's nothing else to do here. That was the last patrol ship to report, so you might as well close up shop."

He turned to the cadets, who had been reassigned from the exposition as aides to Captain Strong in his search for Wallace and Simms. "You three come with us," said Walters. "I've got an idea and I want all of you to hear it."

Strong and the boys followed the commander out of the Academy communications center down to his luxuriously furnished office.

"Perhaps," said Walters, settling back in his chair and lighting an enormous pipe filled with red Venusian tobacco, "perhaps we have been hunting the fox with the wrong kind of dogs."

"Assuming that Wallace and Simms are the foxes in this case and the Solar Guard the hunting dogs, what would you suggest, sir?" asked Strong.

Walters puffed several times and eyed Strong. "I was going to suggest that you and the cadets become merchant spacemen for a while and take a look at some of the uglier places of the Solar Alliance. Go right into the foxes' den dressed as foxes!"

"Ummmmh," mused Strong. "It is an idea."

"Give it a try, anyway," urged Walters. "Take that old freighter we confiscated from the Titan smugglers, the Dog Star. Wander around for a few weeks and see what you can pick up. We have the advantage, since only a few of us know why we're looking for Wallace and Simms. It might make finding them a little easier."

Strong looked at the cadets and then back at the commander. "It might just work, at that, sir," he said at last.

"Work your way around to Venusport," said Walters. "Let it be known that you four are—well, willing to do just about anything for a credit."

Strong and the cadets smiled. "All right, sir," said the young captain. "We'll start right away."

"No!" replied the commander firmly. "You'll start in the morning. Right now, I'm ordering you to hit the sack and get some rest. You're not going to catch those two with speed. You'll need brains and cleverness."

"Very well, sir," said Strong as he stood up. "And I want to thank you for giving us this assignment."

"No question about it," answered the commander. "If you have a tough job to do, you put your best team to work on it, and the job will get done!"

It was difficult for the three cadets, who had been standing to one side listening, to suppress a smile. They saluted and followed Strong from the room. He left them at the slidestairs with orders to be ready to blast off at 0800 hours.

Tom was silent as he climbed into his bed in the Polaris unit's quarters on the forty-second floor. Roger and Astro fell asleep almost as soon as their heads touched their air-foam pillows, but the curly-haired cadet lay with arms under his head, staring up at the ceiling. He felt uneasy about the task that faced them. He wasn't afraid for himself, or Roger, or Astro. Something he couldn't put his finger on bothered the young spaceman.

He reviewed Wallace and Simms' entire operation. He remembered the two men had struck him as not being too bright. Their success in stealing the secret of the adjustable light-key, and their methods, plus their complete disappearance, just didn't add up. He made up his mind to speak to Captain Strong about it in the morning. As soon as the matter was settled in his mind, he was asleep.

At exactly 0800 hours the three cadets and Captain Strong appeared at the Academy spaceport dressed in the severe black tight-fitting trousers and jacket of merchant spacemen. Quietly eluding all friends and acquaintances, they entered the confiscated freighter that had been prepared for space flight during the night and began acquainting themselves with the ship's equipment.

When Astro reported the power deck ready and Roger cleared their course, Tom called the traffic-control tower for blast-off clearance.

"Take it easy on the first hop," said Strong. "There's no hurry and I want to be sure we get this crate off in one piece." Smiling confidently at the control-deck cadet, he turned away to his quarters. He was aware of the effect that being left alone had on the cadets. He had learned early in his associations with Tom, Roger, and Astro that they bore responsibility well, and a challenge to do a good job would assure him the job would be done efficiently.

"Stand by to raise ship!" Tom's voice crackled confidently over the ship's intercom.

Strong sat on an acceleration cushion and strapped himself in. He heard Tom's voice counting off the seconds for blast-off.

"... Five—four—three—two—one—zero."