Treachery in Outer Space

  CHAPTER 2

  "Gentlemen, please!"

  Commander Walters, the commandant of Space Academy, stood behind hisdesk and slammed his fist down sharply on its plastic top. "I mustinsist that you control your tempers and refrain from these repeatedoutbursts," he growled.

  The angry voices that had filled the room began to subside, but Waltersdid not continue his address. He stood, arms folded across his chest,glaring at the assembled group of men until, one by one, they stoppedtalking and shifted nervously in their chairs. When the room was finallystill, the commander glanced significantly at Captain Steve Strong,standing at the side of the desk, smiled grimly, and then resumed in acalm, conversational tone of voice.

  "I am quite aware that we have departed from standard operationalprocedure in this case," he said slowly. "Heretofore, the Solar Guardhas always granted interplanetary shipping contracts to privatecompanies on the basis of sealed bids, the most reasonable bid winningthe job. However, for the job of hauling Titan crystal to Earth, we havefound that method unsatisfactory. Therefore, we have devised this newplan to select the right company. And let me repeat"--Walters leanedforward over his desk and spoke in a firm, decisive voice--"thisdecision was reached in a special executive session of the Council ofthe Solar Alliance last night."

  A short, wiry man suddenly rose from his chair in the front row, hisface clearly showing his displeasure. "All right, get on with it,Walters!" he snapped, deliberately omitting the courtesy of addressingthe commander by his title. "Don't waste our time with that 'official'hogwash. It might work on your cadets and your tin soldiers, but not onus!"

  There was a murmur of agreement from the assembled group of men. Presentwere some of the wealthiest and most powerful shipping magnates in theentire Solar Alliance--men who controlled vast fleets of commercialspaceships and whose actions and decisions carried a great deal ofweight. Each hoped to win the Solar Guard contract to transport Titancrystal from the mines on the tiny satellite back to Earth. Combiningsteellike strength and durability with its great natural beauty, thecrystal was replacing metal in all construction work and the demand wasenormous. The shipping company that got the job would have a guaranteedincome for years to come, and each of the men present was fighting withevery weapon at his command to win the contract.

  Heartened by the reaction of the men around him, the speaker pressedhis advantage. "We've all hauled cargo for the Solar Guard before, andthe sealed-bid system was perfectly satisfactory then!" he shouted. "Whyisn't it satisfactory now? What's all this nonsense about a space race?"

  Again, the murmur filled the room and the men glared accusingly atWalters. But the commander refused to knuckle down to any show ofarrogance. He fixed a cold, stony eye on the short man. "Mr. Brett," hesnapped in a biting voice, "you have been invited to this meeting as aguest, not by any right you think you have as the owner of a shippingcompany. A guest, I said, and I ask that you conduct yourself with thatsocial obligation in mind!"

  Before Brett could reply, Walters turned away from him and addressed theothers calmly. "Despite Mr. Brett's outburst, his question is a goodone. And the answer is quite simple. The bids submitted by yourcompanies were not satisfactory in this case because we believe thatthey were made in bad faith!"

  For once, there was silence in the room as the men stared at Walters inshocked disbelief. "There are fourteen shipping companies represented inthis room, some of them the most respected in the Solar Alliance," hecontinued, his voice edged with knifelike sarcasm. "I cannot find it inmy conscience to accuse all of you of complicity in this affair, butnevertheless we are faced with one of the most startling coincidences Ihave ever seen."

  Walters paused and looked around the room, measuring the effect of hiswords. Satisfied, he went on grimly, "There isn't enough differencebetween the bids of each of you, not _five credits'_ worth ofdifference, to award the contract to any single company!"

  The men in the room gasped in amazement.

  "The bids were exactly alike. The only differences we found were inoperational procedure. But the cost to the Solar Guard amounted to, inthe end, exactly the same thing from each of you! The inference isclear, I believe," he added mockingly. "Someone stole the minimumspecifications and circulated them among you."

  In the shocked quiet that followed Walters' statement, no one noticedTom, Roger, and Astro slip into the room. They finally caught the eye ofCaptain Strong, who acknowledged their presence with a slight nod, asthey found seats in the rear of the room.

  "Commander," a voice spoke up from the middle of the group, "may I makea statement?"

  "Certainly, Mr. Barnard," agreed Walters, and stepped back from his deskas a tall, slender man in his late thirties rose to address the menaround him. The three Space Cadets stared at him with interest. They hadheard of Kit Barnard. A former Solar Guard officer, he had resigned fromthe great military organization to go into private space-freightbusiness. Though a newcomer, with only a small outfit, he was well likedand respected by every man in the room. And everyone present knew thatwhen he spoke, he would have something important to say, or at leastadvance a point that should be brought to light.

  "I have no doubt," said Barnard in a slow, positive manner, "that thedecision to substitute a space race between us as a means of awardingthe contract was well considered by the Solar Council." He turned andshot Brett a flinty look. "And under the circumstances, I, for one,accept their decision." He sat down abruptly.

  There were cries of: "Hear! Hear!" "Righto!" "Very good!"

  "No!" shouted Brett, leaping to his feet. "By the craters of Luna, itisn't right! I demand to know exactly who submitted the lowest bid!"

  Walters sighed and shuffled through several papers on his desk. "You arewithin your rights, Mr. Brett," he said, eying the man speculatively."It was you."

  "Then why in blue blazes didn't I get the contract?" screamed Brett.

  "For several reasons," replied Walters. "Your contract offered us thelowest bid in terms of money, but specified very slow schedules. On theother hand, Universal Spaceways Limited planned faster schedules, butat a higher cost. Kit Barnard outbid both of you in money and schedules,but he has only two ships, and we were doubtful of his ability tocomplete the contract should one of his ships crack up. The othercompanies offered, more or less, the same conditions. So you canunderstand our decision now, Mr. Brett." Walters paused and glared atthe man. "The Solar Council sat in a continuous forty-eight-hour sessionand considered _everyone_. The space race was finally decided on, andvoted for by every member. Schedules were the most vital point underconsideration. But other points could not be ignored, and these couldonly be determined by actual performance. Now, does that answer all yourquestions, Mr. Brett?"

  "No, it doesn't!" yelled Brett.

  "Oh, sit down, Brett!" shouted a voice from the back of the room.

  "Yes! Sit down and shut up!" called another. "We're in this too, youknow!"

  Brett turned on them angrily, but finally sat down, scowling.

  In the rear of the room Tom nudged Roger. "Boy! The commander sure knowshow to lay it on the line when he wants to, doesn't he?"

  "I'll say!" replied Roger. "That guy Brett better watch out. Both thecommander and Captain Strong look as if they're ready to pitch him outon his ear."

  Six feet tall, and looking crisp, sure, and confident in hisblack-and-gold uniform, Captain Steve Strong stood near Walters andscowled at Brett. Unit instructor for the _Polaris_ crew and CommanderWalters' executive officer, Strong was not as adept as Walters inmasking his feelings, and his face clearly showed his annoyance atBrett's outbursts. He had sat the full forty-eight hours with theCouncil while they argued, not over costs, but in an effort to make surethat none of the companies would be slighted in their final decision. Itmade his blood boil to see someone like Brett selfishly disregard theseefforts at fairness.

  "That is all the information I can give you, gentlemen," said Waltersfinally. "Thank you for your kind attention"--he shot an ironic glanceat Bret
t--"and for your understanding of a difficult situation. Now youmust excuse me. Captain Strong, whom you all know, will fill in thedetails of the race."

  As Walters left the room, Strong stepped to the desk, faced theassembly, and spoke quickly. "Gentlemen, perhaps some of you areacquainted with the present jet car race that takes place each year? Theforerunner of that race was the Indianapolis Five-Hundred-Mile Race ofsome few hundred years ago. We have adopted their rules for our ownspeed tests. Time trials will be held with all interested companiescontributing as many ships that they think can qualify, and the threeships that make the fastest time will be entered in the actual race.This way we can eliminate the weaker contenders and reduce the chance ofaccidents taking place millions of miles out in space. Also, it willresult in a faster time for the winner. Now, the details of the racewill be given to your chief pilots, crew chiefs, and power-deck officersat a special meeting in my office here in the Tower building tomorrow.You will receive all information and regulations governing the minimumand maximum size of the ships entered, types of reactor units, andamount of ballast to be carried."

  "How many in the crew?" asked a man in the front.

  "Two," replied Steve, "or if the ship is mostly automatic, one. Eithercan be used. The Solar Guard will monitor the race, sending along one ofthe heavy cruisers." Strong glanced at his notes. "That is all,gentlemen. Are there any questions?"

  There were no questions and the men began to file out of the room.Strong was relieved to see Brett was among the first to leave. He didn'ttrust himself to keep his temper with the man. As the room emptied,Strong stood at the door and grabbed Kit Barnard by the sleeve. "Hello,spaceman!" he cried. "Long time, no see!"

  "Hello, Steve," replied Kit, with a slow, warm smile.

  "Say! Is that the way to greet an old friend after four, or is it fiveyears?"

  "Five," replied Kit.

  "You look worried, fellow," said Strong.

  "I am. This race business leaves me holding the bag."

  "How's that?"

  "Well, I made a bid on the strength of a new reactor unit I'm trying todevelop," explained Kit. "If I had gotten the contract, I could havemade a loan from the Universal Bank and completed my work easily. Butnow--" Kit stopped and shook his head slowly.

  "What is this reactor?" Strong asked. "Something new?"

  "Yes. One quarter the size of present standard reactors and less thanhalf the weight." Kit's eyes began to glow with enthusiasm as he spoke."It would give me extra space in my ships and be economical enough onfuel for me to be able to compete with the larger outfits and theirbigger ships. Now, all I've got is a reactor that hasn't been testedproperly, that I'm not even sure will work on a long haul and a hotrace."

  "Is there any way you can soup up one of your present reactors to makethis run?" asked Strong.

  "I suppose so," added Kit. "I'll give the other fellows a run for theirmoney all right. But it'll take every credit I have. And if I don't winthe race, I'm finished. Washed up."

  "Excuse me, Captain Strong," said Tom Corbett, coming to attention."Major Connel ordered us to report here for special assignment."

  "Oh, yes," said Strong, turning to Tom, Roger, and Astro with a smile."Meet Kit Barnard. Kit--Tom Corbett, Roger Manning, and Astro, the_Polaris_ unit. My unit," he added proudly.

  The boys saluted respectfully, and Barnard smiled and shook hands witheach of them.

  "You've heard about the race now," said Strong to Tom.

  "Yes, sir," replied the young cadet. "It sounds exciting."

  "It will be, with spacemen like Kit Barnard, Charley Brett, and theother men of the big outfits competing. You're going to work with me onthe time trials, and later the _Polaris_ will be the ship that monitorsthe race. But first, you three will be inspectors."

  "Of what, sir?" asked Roger.

  "You'll see that all regulations are observed--that no one gets the jumpon anyone else. These men will be souping up their reactors until thoseships will be nothing but 'go,' and it's your job to see that they useonly standard equipment."

  "We're going to be real popular when we tell a spaceman he can't use aunit he's rigged up specially," commented Astro with a grin.

  Tom laughed. "We'll be known as the cadets you love to hate!"

  "Especially when you run up against Charley Brett," said Kit.

  The cadets looked at the veteran spaceman inquiringly, but he was notsmiling, and they suddenly felt a strange chill of apprehension.