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Updated: May 12, 2025
Far across the field, a slender, needle-nosed ship stood poised on her stabilizer fins ready for flight. She was black except for a red band painted on the hull across the forward section and around the few viewports. It gave her the appearance of a huge laughing insect. Quent eyed the vessel with a practiced eye. "I'll have to soup her up," he commented. "She wouldn't win a foot race now."
They knew Quent Miles would not hesitate to blast off whether anyone was within range of his exhaust or not. "Blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one zero!" Again the spaceport reverberated to the sound of a ship blasting off. All eyes watched the weirdly painted black ship shudder under the surge of power, and then shoot spaceward as if out of a cannon.
Brett took a small lead container out of his pocket and handed it to Quent. "This is impure reactant. Dump it into his feeders and we can count him out of the race." Quent took the lead container, looked at it, and then stuffed it inside his tunic. "What'll happen?" "Nothing. He'll just get out in space and find his pumps won't handle the heat from his feeders, that's all.
"Obviously." Kit nodded. "But who is that? Who would want to do a dirty thing like that?" "Who indeed?" said a voice in back of them. They all spun around to face Quent Miles. He lounged against the stabilizer fin and grinned at them. "What do you want, Miles?" asked Kit.
Tom plunged headlong through the hatch door and scrambled down the ladder. Roger tried to follow, but Quent fired as Roger started to jump feet first through the hatch. His body became rigid as he tumbled through the hatch.
The two brothers retired to the opposite side of the control deck and sat down. Ross kept his paralo-ray pistol in his hand and never once took his eyes off the two cadets. "Well, what happened?" demanded Quent. "What are you doing here with Corbett and where in the blazes is Charley?" "Charley is back on Titan, and probably dead," replied Ross easily.
Walters, Strong, and Kit were too stunned to make a move. They could only stare in open disbelief at Quent Miles. "Come on down, Ross!" called Quent. "And if anyone tries to stop him, I'll let all three of you have it!" Ross climbed down from the control panel and stripped the three helpless spacemen of their weapons. He threw them out of the hatch and then went to stand by his brother.
Roger and Tom stood quietly, listening, and when Roger heard the news he turned to Tom with a questioning look on his face. Tom merely nodded grimly. "But what are you doing here with this load of pitchblende?" Quent persisted. "Everything would have been all right, even with the screens letting go," explained Ross, "if it hadn't been for Corbett and that big jerk Astro.
Quent Miles stood framed in the doorway, the unmistakable outline of a paralo-ray gun in his right hand. "Drop to the floor," hissed Tom. The two cadets dropped lightly to the floor and lay face down, while Quent Miles walked toward them fanning the gun around menacingly. Then, as he was about to step on Astro's hand, he turned and walked quickly back to the door.
"They are approaching the spaceport, sir," called the Titan control-tower operator, and Strong jumped to the radarscope to stare at the two blips on the screen. Only a mile separated them, with Quent Miles' Space Knight ahead. "Five minutes to touchdown," reported the operator. "Come on, Kit," muttered Strong through clenched teeth. "Pour it on, boy. Give her the gun!"
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