Chapter 14

“All right, line up, you space crawlers!” bawled Coxine. “When I call your name step up to get your share of the haul!”

The pirate captain was seated at the head of a long mess table, an open ledger in front of him. There were stacks of crisp new credit notes at his elbow. He took out his paralo-ray pistols and placed them within easy reach. On either side of him, Wallace and Simms sat, staring at the money with greedy eyes.

Coxine looked at the first name on the ledger.

“Joe Brooks!” he called. “One thousand credits for spotting the liner!”

Brooks grinned and amid cheers walked to the table. Coxine handed him a small stack of notes carelessly and turned back to the ledger.

“Gil Attardi!” he roared. “One thousand credits for working on the boarding crew.”

Attardi, a sly, scar-faced man, stepped forward to accept his share. He carried a long, thin knife with an edge so deadly keen that he could and often did shave with it.

Coxine continued his roll call. “Sam Bates! Five hundred credits. Straight share.”

Bates stepped forward and glared at Coxine.

“How come I only get five hundred and the others get a thousand?” he snarled. “It ain’t my fault I’m stuck on the power deck while you grab all the glory jobs!”

The laughing, excited crowd of men grew silent as the rebellious spaceman faced Coxine.

“You get five hundred credits,” snarled Coxine. “Take it or leave it!”

“I want the same as Brooks and Attardi,” demanded Bates.

Quicker than the eye could follow, Coxine rose and smashed the man in the face with a giant fist. Bates dropped to the deck like a stone. Coxine glared at the rest of the crew.

“The next crawler that thinks he’s not getting his fair share,” he snarled, “will get a trip in space for his share!” He glanced down at the unconscious man and jerked his thumb toward the hatch. “Get him out of here!”

Two men dragged the unconscious man away and threw a bucket of cold water on him. He woke up, snatched at his share of the credits, and disappeared from the room.

The pirate captain continued reading the list of names, arbitrarily, handing out various amounts of the stolen money as he saw fit.

Standing in the rear of the messroom, hidden by the other members of the crew, Tom realized that to step in plain sight of Wallace and Simms for his share would mean instant betrayal. He had to make his move now, and with most of the crew mustered together in the messroom, it was his one chance for success.

Gripping the stolen paralo-ray gun in his jacket pocket, he slipped out of the messroom unnoticed and headed for the radar bridge.

As he raced up the companionway he could hear the laughter of the men below decks as one by one they received their shares. His name would be called soon. Heart pounding, he stopped outside the radar hatch, pulled the paralo-ray gun from his jacket, and taking a deep breath opened the hatch.

Joe Brooks was seated in front of the scanner counting his share greedily and glancing occasionally at the finger of light that swept across the green globe. When Tom opened the hatch, he looked up and smiled.

“Hiya, Kid,” he said. “Coxine’s all right. I got a thousand just for picking up that ship on the radar. How much did you collect?”

“This,” said Tom. He shoved the paralo-ray gun into Brooks’ stomach. The man gulped and finally found his voice.

“Say, what is this? A gag? Where did you get that paralo-ray?” Then suddenly he shoved the bundle of notes in his pocket. “Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not going to steal my share!”

“I don’t want your money!” said Tom coldly. “Get into that locker and keep your mouth shut, or I’ll blast you!”

“Locker? Say, what’s the matter with you? You gone space happy?”

“Get in there,” growled Tom. At the look on the cadet’s face, Brooks rose quickly and stepped into the locker. Tom slammed the door and locked it. Then, locking the passageway hatch, he turned to the radar scanner. Working quickly with deft hands, he opened the casing around the delicate instrument and began disconnecting the major terminals. Studying the complicated tangle of connections, he wished that he had as much knowledge of radar as Roger.

He finally found the wires he wanted and separated them from the other connections. He began replacing them, altering the terminals. After checking his work, to make sure it would not short-circuit, he grabbed the intercom and began taking it apart. Sweat beaded his forehead. Time was short. Soon Coxine would miss him and come looking for him. He had to complete his job before that happened.

After moments that seemed like hours he was ready. Using one of the intercom relays he began tapping out a message in Morse code on an exposed wire from the scanner. He looked at the radar scanner and watched it flash white static lines each time he touched the wires. Carefully he tapped out a message.

“ ... emergency ... attention ... Corbett ... Space Cadet ... aboard ... Coxine ... pirate ... ship ... space quadrant ... B ... section ... twenty ... three...”

Over and over he repeated the desperate message, hoping against hope that someone would be scanning space and the interference would show up on their radar.

“ ... emergency ... attention ... Corbett ... Space Cadet--”

“Captain Strong!” Roger’s voice came shrieking over the ship’s intercom. “Captain! Quick! I’m picking up a message from Tom!”

“What?” cried the Solar Guard officer. “Nail it! I’m coming up!”

Scrambling up the ladder to the radar bridge from the control deck, Captain Strong rushed over to the scanner and watched eagerly as blinking flashes washed out the background of the screen.

Slowly, at times unevenly, the message flashed and the two spacemen read it with gladdening hearts. Strong made a careful note of the position while Roger continued to read the flashes. Turning to the astrogation panel, the Solar Guard captain quickly plotted a course that would bring them to Tom’s position.

Endlessly, during the past few days, Strong, Roger, and Astro had swept space in a wide arc around the asteroid belt, hoping to pick up just such a signal. Now, with the position of the Avenger in his hands, Strong grabbed for the intercom.

“Attention, power deck!” yelled Strong. “We’ve just picked up a message from Tom. He’s given us his position, so stand by for a course change.”

“Yeee-eooow!” roared Astro. “I knew he’d do it.”

“He’s not in the clear yet. We’ve only got his position. We don’t know how we’re going to get him away from Coxine yet.”

“Ready to change course, sir,” said Astro.

“Three degrees on the down-plane of the ecliptic, and fifty-four degrees to starboard. Full space speed, Astro! Pile it on!”