"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. And remember I'm skipper of this ship."

"So what?" said Roger. "I'm still the monitor—!" He turned and swaggered away.

Miles watched him go, a crooked smile twisting his lips. "Make the most of it, Manning," he muttered under his breath.

"You will make two stops for refueling on your trip," Captain Strong called over the loud-speakers, as well as into the intercom connecting the three ships. "First fuel stop will be on Deimos of Mars and the second will be at Ganymede. You are to chart a direct course to each of them. Should an emergency arise, you will call for assistance on the special teleceiver and audioceiver circuits open to you, numbers seventeen and eighty-three. You are to circle each fueling stop three times before making a touchdown, and make a final circle around Titan when you arrive.

"Stand by to raise ship! And spaceman's luck!"

Strong turned and flipped on the intercom to the control tower. "All ready up there?" he called.

"All set, sir," replied the enlisted spaceman.

"All right, give them their orbits and blast-off time."

There was a slight pause, and then the gruff voice of the tower operator was heard over the loud-speakers and in the ships. "All ships will blast off on orbit forty-one ... raise ship at 18:51:35 ... stand by!"

There was a tense moment of silence while the seconds on the red hand of the astral chronometer slipped around the dial. Out on the field, the three ships were pointed toward the darkening afternoon skies. The first ship, nearest the tower, was Wild Bill Sticoon's ship, the Space Lance, painted a gleaming white. Strong could see Tom sitting beside the viewport, and across the distance that separated them, the Solar Guard officer could see the curly-haired cadet wave. He returned the greeting.

Next was the black ship with the red markings that had aroused so much comment. Strong searched the viewports for a sight of Roger but could not see him. Finally he looked over at Kit Barnard's red-painted Good Company. He knew Astro would be on the power deck, preferring to nurse the reactor than watch the blast-off.

And then Strong was conscious of the tower operator counting off the seconds. He would pick it up at ten minus. He gripped the intercom mike as Mike's voice droned in his ears.

" ... fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten...."

"Stand by to raise ships!" bawled Strong. He watched the sweep hand on the chronometer. "Blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one—zero!"

There was really very little to see. The three ships left Earth in a giant upheaval of thunderous noise and blazing red exhaust flames. The roar of the crowds was lost in the explosions of the rockets. And the greatest race in space was underway.

Strong raced up to the control tower and stood in front of the radar scanner to watch the course of the three vessels now blasting through the atmosphere. They were three white blips on the green surface of the glass scope, in perfect line, traveling at incredible speeds.

Strong turned to the enlisted spaceman. "Contact the ships and see if everything's all right," he ordered.

"Very well, sir," replied the spaceman, turning to the audioceiver microphone.

"Spaceport control to rocket ships Space Lance, Space Knight, and Good Company. Come in, please."

There was a crackling of static over the loud-speaker and then the calm voice of Tom filled the control tower. "This is Corbett on the Space Lance. Go ahead."

Strong took the microphone. "This is Captain Strong," he called. "How was your blast-off, Tom?"

"Smooth as silk, sir," replied the young cadet. "Wild Bill sends his greetings and says he'll take a three-inch steak instead of flowers when he wins."

"Tell him it's a deal." Strong laughed. "End transmission."

"See you on Titan, sir," said Tom. "End transmission."

Strong then spoke to Kit Barnard on the Good Company, but did not get a chance to speak to Astro. "He's down on the power deck, Steve," reported Kit. "He's watching that reactor as if it were a treasure chest."

"To him it is," said Strong. "Good luck, Kit."

"Incidentally," said Kit before signing off, "I heard that crack Wild Bill made about a steak. Better put my name on it!"

Strong then contacted Quent Miles' vessel. "Is Manning there, Miles?"

"Yeah, he's here. Dead asleep!" growled Miles. "I thought you said he was going to be a help."

Strong's face grew red. "Well, wake him up," he snapped.

"You come wake him up," said Miles, and then the speaker went dead.

"Control tower to Space Knight!" Strong called angrily. "Come in, Miles. Control tower to Space Knight!"

"Yeah. What do you want?" growled Miles over the vast distance of space that already separated the two men and that each second took them thousands of miles farther apart.

"I want to speak to Manning," demanded Strong. "And if you cut me off like that again, Miles, I'll have you before a Solar Guard court for violation of the space code, race or no race."

"I told you once," said Miles. "Manning is asleep. He sacked in right after we left the Academy. Now leave me alone, will you! I've got a race to win!"

"Very well, Miles," said Strong. "But for your sake, I hope Cadet Manning is asleep."

"End transmission," growled Miles, and again the speaker went dead.

"Trouble, Steve?"

Strong turned to see Commander Walters enter the control room.

"No, sir," said Strong. "I tried to contact Roger, but Quent Miles told me he's asleep."

"Asleep!" cried Walters. "But I thought you weren't going to put Manning with Miles."

"Astro wanted to go with Kit, sir. And Tom was anxious to go with Wild Bill Sticoon. Roger didn't seem to mind."

"Did Miles object?"

"Yes, sir. But I think he would object to anyone going with him."

"And he told you Roger is asleep?"

Strong nodded. Walters pushed past him to the intercom and took the microphone. "This is Commander Walters calling rocket ship Space Knight. Come in, Space Knight."

There was a flutter of static and then Quent Miles' voice again. There was a little more respect in his tone but his story was the same. Roger was sleeping.

Walters slammed the microphone down. "By the craters of Luna, this is the last time I'll take this nonsense from Manning!" He jerked around and stood facing the viewport. "I'm sorry, Steve, but there have been more reports from Titan. The situation is serious. I've had to start evacuation. And then to get this smart-alecky behavior out of Manning. Well, you know what I mean."

Strong nodded, now more concerned about the emergency on Mars. "Shall I blast off right away, sir?" he asked.

Walters nodded grimly. "Yes. And I'm going with you. I'll leave Major Connel in charge while I'm gone. I would prefer to have him go, but he's been working with Dr. Dale on some new idea about reinforcing the force field and I can't pull him off it. You and I will have to do what we can."

Strong turned to the tower operator and ordered the rocket cruiser Polaris readied for immediate space flight, concluding, " ... and have a full complement of Space Marines aboard. And I want Warrant Officer Mike McKenny as squad leader."

"Have you forgotten, sir?" interjected the enlisted spaceman who was taking Strong's orders. "Warrant Officer McKenny cannot take acceleration."

"All right, get—" Strong hesitated. "Get me Jeff Marshall, Professor Sykes' assistant."

Walters nodded. "Good idea. Jeff can take care of any lab tests we may have to make and also knows how to handle men. As a matter of fact," Walters continued, "if Jeff does well on this assignment I might put him up for a commission in the Solar Guard. He did well on that last trip into deep space during that trouble on Roald."

"Yes, sir," said Strong. "And I'll gladly endorse it."

"Is that all, sir?" asked the enlisted man.

"That's it, spaceman!" said Strong. When the man didn't move right away, Walters and Strong looked at him. "Well, what is it?"

"Excuse me, sir," said the guardsman, a bright-faced youngster who had failed to pass the rigid requirements for cadet training and so had entered the enlisted Solar Guard. "I heard what Captain Miles said about Cadet Manning being asleep and—" He hesitated.

"Well, what about it?" prompted Walters.

"Well, sir, I don't know if it means anything or not," replied the boy nervously. "But just before the ship blasted off, I saw Cadet Manning standing inside the air lock. He looked as if he wanted to get out. But you were counting the blast-off time, sir. And he disappeared a few seconds before you hit zero."

Strong looked at Walters. "Are you sure?" he asked the boy.

"I'm positive, sir. I know Cadet Manning well, and he looked as though he was scared."

Strong clenched his fists. "Asleep, huh?" he growled. "Get me the Space Knight!"

The boy returned to the audioceiver and began calling Miles, but there was no reply. After a few minutes Walters interrupted, "We can't waste any more time here, Steve. We've got to blast off!"

"Get hold of Corbett on the Space Lance," said Strong to the spaceman. "Tell him I said to get in touch with Manning on the Space Knight. Ask him to find out what's going on."

"Yes, sir."

"And then tell him to contact me on the Polaris. We're blasting off immediately."

"Very well, sir."

Walters turned to Captain Strong. "What do you think it means, Steve?" he asked.

"I can't figure it, sir. Knowing Manning as I do, it could be a crazy stunt or it could be serious."

"It had better be serious," said Walters grimly, "for Manning's sake. One more slip, and I'm bouncing him right out of the Academy!"

The two officers left the control tower, leaving young Oliver Muffin alone, droning his monotonous call to Tom Corbett, somewhere between Earth and Mars—a call that was to be the young cadet's first warning of treachery in deep space!