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On the Trail of the Space Pirates

<h2>CHAPTER 7</h2> "Attention! Attention! This is Captain Maitland of the rocket cruiser Orion reporting to Captain Strong at Space Academy. Come in, Strong!" High in the Tower of Galileo overlooking Space Academy, the Solar Guard officer, his face showing the strain of the last three-weeks' futile search for Wallace and Simms, flipped on the teleceiver and replied, "Strong here. Go ahead, Maitland." Tom, Astro, Roger, and Commander Walters stood behind Strong and waited tensely for the last report to come in. Maintland's voice crackled through millions of miles of space. "We've searched space quadrants A through D, sections twenty-one through one hundred thirty-eight. Constant six-way radar sweep of the area. No sign of Wallace and Simms." Strong sighed deeply and replied, "All right, Maitland. Thank you. You may return to base. End transmission." "End transmission!" signaled Maitland, and the crackling static died out in the quiet room. Walters stepped forward and placed his hand on Strong's shoulder. "Don't let it get you down, Steve," he said. "I saw the zone search you set up for those two. No one could have done more." "Maybe not, sir," said Strong, getting up, "but we didn't catch them." "Not yet," frowned the commander grimly, "but we will! Well, there's nothing else to do here. That was the last patrol ship to report, so you might as well close up shop." He turned to the cadets, who had been reassigned from the exposition as aides to Captain Strong in his search for Wallace and Simms. "You three come with us," said Walters. "I've got an idea and I want all of you to hear it." Strong and the boys followed the commander out of the Academy communications center down to his luxuriously furnished office. "Perhaps," said Walters, settling back in his chair and lighting an enormous pipe filled with red Venusian tobacco, "perhaps we have been hunting the fox with the wrong kind of dogs." "Assuming that Wallace and Simms are the foxes in this case and the Solar Guard the hunting dogs, what would you suggest, sir?" asked Strong. Walters puffed several times and eyed Strong. "I was going to suggest that you and the cadets become merchant spacemen for a while and take a look at some of the uglier places of the Solar Alliance. Go right into the foxes' den dressed as foxes!" "Ummmmh," mused Strong. "It is an idea." "Give it a try, anyway," urged Walters. "Take that old freighter we confiscated from the Titan smugglers, the Dog Star. Wander around for a few weeks and see what you can pick up. We have the advantage, since only a few of us know why we're looking for Wallace and Simms. It might make finding them a little easier." Strong looked at the cadets and then back at the commander. "It might just work, at that, sir," he said at last. "Work your way around to Venusport," said Walters. "Let it be known that you four are—well, willing to do just about anything for a credit." Strong and the cadets smiled. "All right, sir," said the young captain. "We'll start right away." "No!" replied the commander firmly. "You'll start in the morning. Right now, I'm ordering you to hit the sack and get some rest. You're not going to catch those two with speed. You'll need brains and cleverness." "Very well, sir," said Strong as he stood up. "And I want to thank you for giving us this assignment." "No question about it," answered the commander. "If you have a tough job to do, you put your best team to work on it, and the job will get done!" It was difficult for the three cadets, who had been standing to one side listening, to suppress a smile. They saluted and followed Strong from the room. He left them at the slidestairs with orders to be ready to blast off at 0800 hours. Tom was silent as he climbed into his bed in the Polaris unit's quarters on the forty-second floor. Roger and Astro fell asleep almost as soon as their heads touched their air-foam pillows, but the curly-haired cadet lay with arms under his head, staring up at the ceiling. He felt uneasy about the task that faced them. He wasn't afraid for himself, or Roger, or Astro. Something he couldn't put his finger on bothered the young spaceman. He reviewed Wallace and Simms' entire operation. He remembered the two men had struck him as not being too bright. Their success in stealing the secret of the adjustable light-key, and their methods, plus their complete disappearance, just didn't add up. He made up his mind to speak to Captain Strong about it in the morning. As soon as the matter was settled in his mind, he was asleep. <hr style='width: 45%;' /> At exactly 0800 hours the three cadets and Captain Strong appeared at the Academy spaceport dressed in the severe black tight-fitting trousers and jacket of merchant spacemen. Quietly eluding all friends and acquaintances, they entered the confiscated freighter that had been prepared for space flight during the night and began acquainting themselves with the ship's equipment. When Astro reported the power deck ready and Roger cleared their course, Tom called the traffic-control tower for blast-off clearance. "Take it easy on the first hop," said Strong. "There's no hurry and I want to be sure we get this crate off in one piece." Smiling confidently at the control-deck cadet, he turned away to his quarters. He was aware of the effect that being left alone had on the cadets. He had learned early in his associations with Tom, Roger, and Astro that they bore responsibility well, and a challenge to do a good job would assure him the job would be done efficiently. "Stand by to raise ship!" Tom's voice crackled confidently over the ship's intercom. Strong sat on an acceleration cushion and strapped himself in. He heard Tom's voice counting off the seconds for blast-off. "... Five—four—three—two—one—zero." <hr style="width: 45%;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/p081.jpg" alt=""/></div> <hr style="width: 45%;" /> As the rockets burst into a loud roar, the freighter lurched from the ground and thundered up into the atmosphere, pushing Strong deep into his acceleration cushion. Minutes later, he felt the freedom of free-fall space. In a strange ship, the Polaris crew had begun a strange mission. During the flight to Luna City, their first stop on the tour of the hangouts of outlawed spacemen across the solar system, Strong briefed his cadets on a plan of action. "I think it'll be better if we split up into two teams. You work with me, Corbett, and Astro will team up with Manning. We'll operate like simple tramp spacers. Our space papers have new last names, but the same first names, so there won't be any slip-ups when we speak to each other. From now on, if we happen to meet, you'll all call me Steve and I'll call you by your first names. Is that clear?" The cadets nodded. "All right," continued Strong. "Now, when we arrive in a city, Tom and I will go to one section, while you two go to another. Visit the toughest-looking places you can find. Talk, talk to anyone that wants to talk. Buy people drinks. Let it slip that you're not exactly on the right side of the space code. Then, if you feel you have a sympathetic listener, mention Wallace and Simms. Say you have heard of the trouble they're in. Say you know them, that you're old friends, and hint that you have something that they need very badly. Just keep talking and pulling for information. Got that?" Again the three cadets nodded silently. "Wear your paralo-ray guns at all times and keep your belt communicators hidden beneath your jackets," Strong warned. "If one team gets into a tight spot, call the other right away. But don't call unless it's absolutely necessary!" Strong paused and glanced at the tele-scanner. "We're getting close to Luna City. We'll touch down at the municipal spaceport and go through the regular routine of customs search just to establish ourselves as tramp spacemen." "How long will we stay in each city, sir?" asked Tom. "Watch that 'sir,' Tom," snapped Strong. "Might as well begin to forget it now." "O.K., Steve," replied Tom sheepishly. "To answer your question, we'll stay in each city only as long as there might be something to be gained by staying. We'll live aboard the Dog Star. But stay away from the ship as much as possible. If anyone questions you, tell them you're looking for cargo. But in case they take you up on it and offer you a cargo haul, you always want more money for the job." Roger grinned. "That could be fun." "Be clever, but be tough. Some of the people you'll run into are the most ruthless men in the universe. They are just the ones that might know something about Wallace and Simms." Strong cautioned them against drinking rocket juice, suggesting they drink Martian water instead. The briefing was interrupted by the automatic warning beep from the tele-scanner informing them that they had passed the outer beacon on the approach to the municipal spaceport on the Moon. The four spacemen immediately began the routine task of landing their ship safely on the satellite colony. An hour later, as gray-clad customs men finished searching the empty ship, Roger waited for final clearance at the air lock of the freighter. When the last of the men were leaving the ship, Roger stopped two of them. "Say, ground hogs," drawled Roger, "where's the best place to get something to eat?" The two men stopped and turned to face the cadet, their eyes cold and unfriendly. "Why don't you space drift blast out of here?" asked one of them. "Yeah," agreed the other, "your kind aren't welcome in Luna City." Roger shrugged his shoulders and turned away. The two customs officers continued down the gangway. "Those young punks," muttered one, "they get themselves a berth on a crummy freighter and think they're real hot space aces when they're nothing but wet fire-crackers!" Strong had appeared at Roger's side and heard the last remark. "What was that about, Roger?" he asked, nodding toward the disappearing customs men. Roger smiled. "Just seeing if I could get by." "They certainly gave us a good going over," said Strong grimly. "I think our disguise is perfect. Those fellows don't miss much." "I heard them talking, Steve," said Roger. "They recognized the ship and know its reputation for smuggling." "Yes," agreed Strong. "And your remark will make them sure to watch every move we make. But that's just what we want. News of that sort has a way of getting around. And anyone interested in a ship with a reputation for smuggling is someone we're interested in." Astro walked up, and with a brief nod Roger followed the big cadet down the gangway. As they walked across the concrete surface of the spaceport, Tom appeared at Strong's elbow. "I'm ready to go, Steve," he said. "The ship's secure." "Very well, Tom," said Strong. "But from now on, keep your eyes and ears open. It only takes one slip to make a dead spaceman!" <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/p084.jpg" alt=""/></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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