On the Trail of the Space Pirates

CHAPTER 15

“What’s our position, Roger?” Captain Strong’s voice crackled through the intercom, tight with urgency.

“Space quadrant B, section twenty-three, sir,” came the reply from the radar bridge, “But I can’t see a thing on the radar. That static flash Tom sent out is scrambling everything.”

It was the worst possible news. Somewhere ahead lay the treacherous asteroid belt, and somewhere within it floated their missing crewmate, Tom Corbett, alone in a stolen jet boat. Strong’s mind worked swiftly. “We’re too near the asteroid belt to use the Polaris without radar. We’ll search in jet boats. Astro, give me full braking rockets and prepare the boats for flight.”

The great ship shuddered and slowed. On the radar bridge, Roger shook his head when Strong asked about switching frequencies. “The interference would have to be eliminated at its source.”

But Roger had another idea. If he blanked out the radar range to test each compass heading separately, the static would reveal the direction of the pirate ship Avenger—and possibly Tom. Strong ordered him to try, then descended to the jet-boat deck where Astro was already waiting.

The two spacemen would split the search. Strong would take section twenty-four, Astro section twenty-two, spiraling inward in wide circles. With a wave, the Venusian cadet roared away from the Polaris, his tiny craft aimed at the looming asteroid belt. He remembered the old stories of castaways on those airless rocks, waiting for help that never came, and gritted his teeth. Every stone large enough to support an Earthman would be investigated.

Miles away, Captain Strong felt the same helpless dread. Tom might already be captured, or trapped aboard the Avenger, or drifting helpless in a space suit. The young captain’s throat tightened with fierce pride at the gallant risk the boy had taken to warn them.

Back aboard the Polaris, Roger sweated over the rewired scanner, testing compass point after compass point. The screen stayed dark, dark, dark—then, at the three-hundred-and-tenth heading, a second blip appeared. A different model. Not one of theirs. His heart pounding, Roger grabbed the audioceiver.

“Captain Strong! Astro! I’ve spotted a jet boat circling an asteroid at the intersection of sections twenty-one and twenty-two!”

Both pilots banked hard toward the coordinates. Strong, approaching from a different angle, was the first to see the drifting craft. Through its crystal canopy they glimpsed Tom’s sleeping form. But a quick check brought a sharp warning from Strong: Tom wore no space suit. Opening the hatch would kill him. They had to tow him back to the Polaris and get him inside an air lock.

Working with desperate speed, Astro tied a length of rope between the two boats and began the long tow back to the cruiser. But a new problem emerged—the stolen jet boat was still under acceleration, its motors roaring, and there was no way to stop them without opening the hatch.

Inside the roaring craft, Tom woke with a start, coughing. Stars swam above him. Through the billowing haze in his brain, he saw the rope, the other boat. He had been rescued. He tried to reach the communicator, but his arm would not lift. His lungs screamed for oxygen. Then, with the last trembling ounce of his strength, he rolled toward the acceleration lever. His fingers brushed it, strained, touched—and his falling body pulled it back.

Even before the black cloud swept over him, Tom heard the jets fall silent. He had signaled them.

Chapter 18

Captain Bull Coxine fixed his hard gaze on his subordinate and asked one final time, “Have you got everything straight?”

Simms nodded.

“All right, blast off,” Coxine ordered. “We’ll follow you and keep you spotted on radar. If it’s a trap, head for asteroid fourteen, bail out in a jet boat, and let the scout keep going. We’ll pick you up later.”

Simms turned to his old partner, Wallace, with a crooked grin. “So long, Gus. This is one time the Solar Guard gets it right where it hurts!”

“Yeah,” agreed Wallace. “See you later. Take it easy on that asteroid and don’t get in trouble with the girls!”

The two men laughed. Simms climbed into the waiting rocket scout—a sleek ship stripped down until it was hardly more than a power deck and a control panel, now capable of more than twice her original speed. As the little spaceman disappeared into the air lock, Coxine turned to Wallace with a thin smile.

“We’ll give him an hour’s head start and then blast off after him. And remember, the first man that breaks audio silence will get blasted!”

Every eye watched as the tiny rocket scout’s jets roared to life, lifting free of the pirate planetoid and vanishing into the black. Coxine ordered an immediate alert. While his crew readied the armed privateer for blast-off, he and Wallace climbed directly to the radar bridge.

Joe Brooks was hunched in front of the scanner, staring intently. “Just following Lieutenant Simms on the radar, skipper. He’s blasting through the asteroid belt faster than I thought he could.”

“Lemme see!” growled Coxine. The giant pirate stared at the scanner and his mouth twisted into a grin. He pointed to a second white blip on the sweep. “Wallace, stand by to blast off in two minutes! Brooks, get me a bearing on that ship!”

“You mean Simms?” asked the radarman.

“No! I mean that ship, right there!” Coxine snapped. “And after you get the bearing I want a course that’ll intersect it in”—he glanced at the astral chronometer—“ten minutes!”

Brooks calculated rapidly and handed Coxine a slip of paper. “What would you say Simms’ speed would be if he kept his ship on full thrust, Brooks?”

“About half of what he’s making now.”

“Exactly!” Coxine roared. “That’s why the ship on your scanner isn’t Simms’ at all!”

Brooks stared at the blip. “You mean it might be the Titan pay roll?” he breathed.

“It might be,” Coxine said, leaving the radarman utterly confused.

On the other side of the belt, Captain Strong sat on the control deck of his decoy ship, watching the radar scanner. Too restless to remain seated, he paced and flipped on a chart screen, studying the asteroids he knew hid the Solar Guard fleet. Schooled for years in the tedium of space patrol, Strong was nevertheless anxious as minute after minute slipped past.

Once he thought he saw something move and gripped the instrument tightly, only to relax when he realized it had been a maverick asteroid—one of those wandering, gravitationally independent rocks spacemen feared most. Unable to break audio silence without giving away the fleet, Strong felt the loneliness driving him to jitters.

Then he jumped up, staring unbelievingly at the scanner. A blip was traveling at amazing speed straight for his ship. He grabbed the audioceiver. “Attention all ships! This is Captain Strong. Spaceship approaching me, starboard quarter, one-one-five degrees. Speed unknown. All ships close in immediately!”