Chapter 4

“Yeeooowww!“

Roaring with jubilation and jumping high in the air at every other step, Astro raced out of the gigantic maintenance hangar at the Venusport spaceport and charged at his two unit mates waiting on the concrete apron.

“Everything’s O.K.,” he yelled, throwing his arms around them. “The Polaris is going to be brought in for full repairs! I just saw the audiograph report from the maintenance chief!”

Tom and Roger broke into loud cheers and pounded each other on the back.

“Great Jupiter,” gasped Roger, “I feel as though I’ve been sitting up with a sick friend!”

“Your friend’s going to make a full recovery,” asserted Astro.

“Did you see Major Connel?” asked Tom.

“Yeah,” said Astro. “I think he had a lot to do with it. I saw him talking to the head maintenance officer.”

“Well, now that we’ve sweated the old girl through the crisis,” asserted Roger, “how’s about us concentrating on our vacation?”

“Great,” agreed Tom. “This is your party, Astro. Lead the way.”

The three cadets left the spaceport in a jet cab and rode happily into the city of Venusport. As they slid along the superhighway toward the first and largest of the Venusian cities, Astro pointed out the sights. Like slim fingers of glass, the towering Titan crystal buildings of the city arose before them, reaching above the misty atmosphere to catch the sunlight.

“Where do we get our safari gear, Astro?” asked Roger.

“In the secondhand shops along Spaceman’s Row,” replied the big Venusian. “We can get good equipment down there at half the price.”

The cab turned abruptly off the main highway and began twisting through a section of the city shunned by the average Venusian citizen. Spaceman’s Row had a long and unsavory history. For ten square blocks it was the hide-out and refuge of the underworld of space. The grimy stores and shadowy buildings supplied the needs of the countless shadowy figures who lived beyond the law and moved as silently as ghosts.

Leaving the jet cab, the three cadets walked along the streets, past the cheaply decorated store fronts and dingy hallways, until they finally came to a corner shop showing the universal symbol of the pawnshop: three golden balls. Tom and Roger looked at Astro who nodded, and they stepped inside.

The interior of the shop was filthy. Rusted and worn space gear was piled in heaps along the walls and on dusty counters. An old-fashioned multiple neon light fixture cast an eerie blue glow over everything. Roger grimaced as he looked around. “Are you sure we’re in the right place, Astro?”

Tom winked. Roger had a reputation for being fastidious.

“This is it,” nodded Astro. “I know the old geezer that runs this place. Nice guy. Name’s Spike.” He turned to the back of the shop and bawled, “Hey, Spike! Customers!”

Out of the gloomy darkness a figure emerged slowly. “Yeah?” The man stepped out into the pale light. He dragged one foot as he walked. “Whaddaya want?”

Astro looked puzzled. “Where’s Spike?” he asked. “Doesn’t Spike Freyer own this place?”

“He died a couple months ago. I bought him out just before.” The crippled man eyed the three cadets warily. “Wanna buy something?”

Astro looked shocked. “Spike, dead? What happened?”

“How should I know,” snarled the little man. “I bought him out and he died a few weeks later. Now, you wanna buy something or not?”

“We’re looking for jungle gear,” said Tom, puzzled by the man’s strange belligerence.

“Jungle gear?” the man’s eyes widened. “Going hunting?”

“Yeah,” supplied Roger. “We need complete outfits for three. But you don’t look like you have them. Let’s go, fellas.” He turned toward the door, anxious to get out into the open air.

“Just a minute! Just a minute, Cadet,” said the proprietor eagerly. “I’ve got some fine hunting gear here! A little used, but you won’t mind that! Save you at least half on anything you’d buy up in the city.” He started toward the back of the store and then paused. “Where you going hunting?”

“Why?” asked Tom.

“So I’ll know what kind of gear you need. Light--heavy--kind of guns--”

“Jungle belt in the Eastern Hemisphere,” supplied Astro.

“Big game?” asked the man.

“Yeah. Tyrannosaurus.”

“Tyranno, eh?” nodded the little man. “Well, now, you’ll need heavy stuff for that. I’d say at least three heavy-duty paralo-ray pistols for side arms, and three shock rifles. Then you’ll need camping equipment, synthetics, and all the rest.” He counted the items off on grubby little fingers.

“Let’s take a look at the blasters,” said Tom.

“Right this way,” said the man. He turned and limped to the rear of the shop, followed by the three cadets. Opening a large cabinet, he pulled out a heavy rifle, a shock gun that could knock out any living thing at a range of a thousand yards, and stun the largest animal at twice the distance.

“This blaster will knock the scales off any tyranno that you hit,” he said, handing the weapon over to Tom who expertly broke it down and examined it.

As Tom checked the gun, the proprietor turned to the other cadets casually.

“Why would three cadets want to go into that section of the jungle belt?”

“We just told you,” said Roger. “We’re hunting tyranno.”

“Uh, yes, of course.” He turned away and pulled three heavy-duty paralo-ray pistols out of the cabinet. “Now these ray guns are the finest money can buy. Standard Solar Guard equipment...”

“Where did you get them?” demanded Roger sharply.

“Well, you know how it is, Cadet.” The man laughed. “One way or another, we get a lot of gear. A man is discharged from the Solar Guard and he can keep his equipment, then he gets hard up for a few credits and so he comes to me.”

Tom closed the shock rifle and turned to Astro. “This gun is clean enough. Think it can stop a tyranno, Astro?”

“Sure,” said the big cadet confidently. “Easy.”

“O.K.,” announced Tom, turning back to the proprietor. “Give us the rest of the stuff.”

“And watch your addition when you make out the bill,” said Roger blandly. “We can add, too.”

A half-hour later the three cadets stood in front of the shop with all the gear they would need and hailed a jet cab. They stowed their newly purchased equipment inside and started to climb in as Astro announced, “Spaceport, driver!”

“Huh?” Roger paused. “Why back there?”

“How do you think we’re going to get to the jungle belt?” asked Astro. “Walk?”

“Well, no, but--”

“We have to rent a jet launch,” said Astro. “Or try to buy a used one that we can sell back again. Pile in, now!”

As the cab shot away from the curb with the three cadets, the proprietor of the pawnshop stepped out of the doorway and watched it disappear, a puzzled frown on his face. Quickly he re-entered the shop, and limping to a small locker in the rear, opened it, exposing the screen of a teleceiver. He flipped on the switch, tuned it carefully, and in a moment the screen glowed to life.

“Hello, this is the shop,” called the little man. “Lemme speak to Lactu! This is urgent!” As he waited he stared out through the dirty window to the street where the cadets had been a moment before and he smiled thinly.

Arriving at the spaceport, Astro led his unit mates to a privately owned repair hangar and dry dock where wealthier Venusian citizens kept their space yachts, jet-powered craft, and small runabouts. Astro opened the door to the office with a bang, and a young girl, operating an automatic typewriter, looked up.

“Astro!” she cried. “How wonderful to see you!”

“Hiya, Agnes,” replied Astro shyly. The big cadet was well known and liked at the repair hangar. His early life had been spent in and around the spaceport. First just listening to the stories of the older spacemen and running errands for them, then lending a helping hand wherever he could, and finally becoming a rigger and mechanic. This all preceded his years as an enlisted spaceman and his eventual appointment to Space Academy. His big heart and honesty, his wild enthusiasm for any kind of rocket power had won him many friends.

“Is Mr. Keene around?” asked Astro.

“He’s with a customer right now,” replied Agnes. “He’ll be out in a minute.” Her eyes swept past Astro to Tom and Roger who were standing in the doorway. “Who are your friends?”

“Oh, excuse me!” mumbled Astro. “These are my unit mates, Cadet Corbett and Cadet Manning.”

Before Tom could acknowledge the introduction, Roger stepped in front of him and sat on the edge of the desk. Looking into her eyes, he announced, “Tell you what, Astro, you and Tom go hunting. I’ve found all I could ever want to find right here. Tell me, my little space pet, are you engaged for dinner tonight?”

Agnes looked back into his eyes innocently. “As a matter of fact I am.” Then, grinning mischievously, she added, “But don’t let that stop you.”

“I wouldn’t let a tyranno stop me,” bragged the blond-haired cadet. “Tell me who your previous engagement is with and I’ll get rid of him in nothing flat!”

The girl giggled and looked past Roger. He turned to see a tall, solidly built man in coveralls scowling at him.

“Friend of yours, Agnes?” the newcomer asked.

“Friend of Astro’s, Roy,” said Agnes. “Cadet Manning, I’d like you to meet my brother, Roy Keene.”

Roger jumped up and stuck out his hand. “Oh--er--ah--how do you do, sir?”

“Quite well, Cadet,” replied Keene gruffly, but with a slight twinkle in his eye. He turned to Astro and gripped the big cadet’s hand solidly. “Well, Astro, it’s good to see you. How’s everything going at Space Academy?”