that’s why you want to buy a spaceship, eh?”
“Wanted,” replied Loring. “I don’t want to buy one now. The way things look, we’ll get what we want for nothing!”
Mason, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly jumped up. “So that’s your angle! Well, I don’t want any part of it,” he shouted.
Loring and Shinny looked up in surprise.
“What’re you talking about?” demanded Loring.
“All of a sudden it’s come to me. Now I know why you’ve been hanging around the spaceport for the last two weeks. And what you meant when you saw the spaceman get out of that freighter today!”
“Sit down!” barked Loring. “If you weren’t so dumb, you’d have caught on long ago.” He eyed the shorter man from between half-closed lids. “It’s the only way we can get out of here!”
“Not me. I ain’t pulling anything like that!” whined Mason.
“What’s going on here?” demanded Shinny. “What’re you two space bums talking about?”
“I’ll tell you what! He’s going to try—”
Loring suddenly stood up and slapped the shorter spaceman across the mouth. Mason sat down, a dazed look on his face.
“You space-crawling rat!” hissed Loring. “You’ll do what I tell you to do, see?”
“Yeah—yeah, sure,” bleated Mason. “O.K. Anything you say. Anything.”
“What is this?” demanded Shinny.
“You shut up!” growled Loring.
“I won’t!” said Shinny, as he also rose from the table. “You may be tough, Billy Loring, but not as tough as me!”
The two men stared at each other for a moment. Finally Loring smiled and patted Mason’s shoulder. “Sorry, Al. I guess I got a little hot for a moment.”
“Quit talking riddles,” pleaded Shinny. “What’s this all about?”
“Sit down,” said Loring.
They sank back into their chairs.
“It’s simple,” said Mason fearfully. “Loring wants to steal a spaceship.”
“A pirate job!” said Shinny. He drew in his breath sharply. “You must be outta your mind!”
“You’ve called yourself in on this,” Loring reminded him. “And you’re staying in.”
“Oh, no!” Shinny’s voice dropped to a husky, frightened whisper. “Deal’s off. I ain’t gonna spend the rest of my life on a prison asteroid!”
“Shinny, you know too much!” Loring’s hand darted toward the blaster he wore at his belt.
“Your secret’s safe with me. I give you my spaceman’s word on it,” said Shinny, pushing back his chair. Abruptly getting to his feet, he scrambled rapidly out the door of the Café Cosmos.
“Loring,” said Mason, “get him. You can’t let him…”
“Forget it,” shot back the other. “He won’t break his spaceman’s oath. Not Shinny.” He got up. “Come on, Mason. We haven’t got much time before the Annie Jones blasts off.”
“What are we gonna do?” the shorter man wanted to know.
“Stow away on the cargo deck. Then, when we get out into space, we dump the pilots and head for Tara, for our first load of copper.”
“But a job like this’ll take money!”
“We’ll make enough to go ahead on the first load.”
Mason began to get up, hesitated, and then sat down again.
“Come on,” snapped Loring. His hand dropped toward his belt. “I’m going to make you rich, Mason,” he said quietly. “I’m going to make you one of the richest men in the universe—even if I have to kill you first.”
CHAPTER 7
“Space freighter Antares from Venus space station. Your approach course is one-nine-seven—corrected. Reduce speed to minimum thrust and approach spaceport nine—landing-deck three. End transmission!”
Tom stood on the dais of the traffic-control room and switched the Antares beam to one of his assistants at the monitors in the control room. In less than two weeks he had mastered the difficult traffic-control procedure to the point where Captain Stefens had allowed him to handle the midnight shift. He checked the monitors and turned to see Roger walk through the door.
“Working hard, Junior?” asked Roger in his casual drawl.
“Roger!” exclaimed Tom. “What are you fooling around down here for?”
“Ah, there’s nothing to do on the radar deck. Besides, I’ve got the emergency alarm on.” He wiped his forehead. “Brother! Of all the crummy places to be stuck!”
“Could be worse,” said Tom, his eyes sweeping the monitors.
“Nothing could be worse,” groaned Roger. “But nothing. Think of that lovely space doll Helen Ashton alone on earth—and me stuck here on a space station.”
“Well, we’re doing an important job, Roger,” replied Tom. “And doing it well, or Major Connel wouldn’t leave us alone so much. How’re you making out with the new equipment?”
“That toy?” sneered Roger. “I gave it a look, checked the circuits once, and knew it inside out. It’s so simple a child could have built one!”
“Oh, sure,” scoffed Tom. “That’s why the top scientists worked for years on something small, compact, powerful enough to reach through deep space—and still be easy to repair.”
“Quit heckling me, Junior,” retorted Roger, “I’m thinking. Trying to figure out some way of getting to the teleceiver set on board the Polaris.”
“Why can’t you get on the Polaris?” asked Tom.
“They’re jazzing up the power deck with a new hyperdrive unit for the big hop to Tara. So many guys buzzing around you can’t get near it.”
“What do you need a teleceiver for?” asked Tom.
“To give me company,” replied Roger sourly. “Say!” He snapped his fingers suddenly. “Maybe if I just changed the frequency—”
“What frequency? What are you talking about?”
“Spaceboy, I’m getting a real hot-rocket idea! See ya later!” And the blond cadet ran for the door.
Tom watched his unit-mate disappear and shook his head in amused despair. Roger, he told himself, might be difficult, but he was certainly never dull.
Then his attention was brought back to the monitors by the warning of another approaching spaceship.
“…jet liner San Francisco to Venus space-station traffic control…” the metallic voice crackled over the speaker.
“Jet liner San Francisco, this is Venus space-station traffic control,” replied Tom. “You are cleared for landing at port eleven—repeat—eleven. Make standard check for approach orbit to station landing. End transmission!”
From one side of the circular dais, Tom saw Major Connel enter the room. He snapped to attention and saluted smartly.
“Morning, Corbett,” said Connel, returning Tom’s salute. “Getting into the swing of the operation?”
“Yes, sir,” said Tom. “I’ve handled about twenty approaches since Captain Stefens left me alone, and about fifty departures.” Tom brought his fist up, with the thumb extended and wiped it across his chest in the