Chapter 8

“Are you sure they went south, Astro?”

Major Connel was examining a map of the Southern Hemisphere of Venus. The three cadets were grouped around him in the small control room of the jet ship.

“I think so, sir,” replied Astro. “I watched them circle and then climb. There would be no reason to climb unless they were going over the mountains.”

“What do you think, Tom?” asked Connel.

“I don’t know, sir. The map doesn’t show anything but jungle for about a thousand square miles. Unless there’s a secret base somewhere between here and there”--he placed his fingers on the map where the Sharkey and Sinclair plantations were marked--”I don’t see where they could have gone.”

“Well, that must be the answer, then,” sighed the gruff spaceman. “Our alert to the patrol ships in this area narrows it down. Nothing was spotted in the air. And they couldn’t have blasted off into space. All their ships were low-flying stuff.”

Blasting off from the Sinclair plantation immediately, the three cadets and the major had hoped to find the operations base of the green-clad invaders, but the ships had disappeared. The ship they had captured proved to be a freighter with no name and all identifying marks removed. They had asked the Solar Guard ship registry in Venusport to check on the vessel’s title but so far had received no answer.

Now blasting back to Venusport at full speed, Connel told the boys the real nature of his mission to Venus. The boys were shocked, unable to believe that anyone, or any group of persons, would dare to buck the authority of the Solar Guard. Yet they had seen with their own eyes a demonstration of the strength of the Nationalists. Roger had sent a top-secret teleceiver message to Commander Walters at Space Academy, requesting an immediate conference with Connel, and had received confirmation within a half-hour.

“I think Captain Strong will be along too,” said Roger to Tom after Connel had retired to a compartment with a recorder to transcribe a report of the affair at Sinclair’s. “The message said we were to prepare a full report for consideration by Commander Walters, Professor Sykes, and Captain Strong.”

“Boy,” said the curly-haired cadet, “this thing is too big for me to swallow. Imagine a bunch of dopes dressing up in uniforms and burning a guy’s buildings because he wrote a letter to his delegate!”

“I’d hate to be a member of that organization when Commander Walters gets through with them,” said Roger in a slow drawl. “And particularly the guy that ordered Connel blasted with that ray gun. Ten shots at once! Wow! That guy must have nerves made of steel!”

Within an hour the jet freighter was circling Venusport and was given priority clearance for an immediate landing. Immediately upon landing, the ship swarmed with Solar Guardsmen, grim-faced men assigned to guard it, while technicians checked the ship for identification. The three boys were still wearing the jungle garb when they presented themselves to Major Connel with the request for a little sleep.

“Take an aspirin!” roared Connel. “We’ve got important work to do!”

“But, sir,” said Roger, his eyes half-closed, “we’re dead on our feet! We’ve been out in the jungle for three days and--”

“Manning,” interrupted the spaceman, “everything you saw during that business back at Sinclair’s might be valuable. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to insist that you talk to the Solar Guard security officers first. As tired as you are, you might forget something after a heavy sleep.”

There was little else the boys could do but follow the burly officer out of the ship to a well-guarded jet cab which took them through the streets of Venusport to the Solar Guard headquarters.

They rode the elevator to the conference room in silence, each boy feeling at any moment that he would collapse from exhaustion. In the long corridor they passed tough-looking enlisted guardsmen who were heavily armed, and before being allowed into the conference room, they were scrutinized by a burly officer. Finally inside, they were allowed to sit down in soft chairs and were given hot cups of tea to drink while precise, careful interrogators took down the story of their first meeting with the Venusian Nationalists. They were forced to repeat details many times, in the hope that something new might be added. Groggy after nearly two hours of this, the boys felt sure that the time had come for them to be allowed to get some sleep, but after the last question from the interrogators, they were ushered into the presence of Commander Walters, Major Connel, Professor Sykes, Captain Strong, and several recording secretaries. Before the conference began, Delegate E. Philips James arrived with his personal secretary. He offered his excuses for being late and took his place at the long table. Tom shot a glance at the secretary. The man looked vaguely familiar to him. The cadet tried to place him, but he was so tired that he could not think.

“Major Connel,” began Commander Walters abruptly, “what do you consider the best possible move for the Solar Guard to make? Under the present circumstances, do you think we should undertake a full-scale investigation? We talked to Al Sharkey, and while he admits being head of an organization known as the Venusian Nationalists, he denies any knowledge of any attack on Sinclair such as you describe. And he claims to have been in Venusport when the incident happened.”

Connel thought a moment. “I don’t know about Sharkey, but I don’t think a public investigation should be made yet. I think it would arouse a lot of speculation and achieve no results.”

“Then you think we should move against them merely on the basis of this encounter at the Sinclair plantation,” asked E. Philips James in his smoothest manner.

Connel shook his head. “I think our best bet is to locate their base. If we can nail them with solid evidence, we’ll have a good case to present before the Grand Council of the Solar Alliance.”

“I agree with you, Major.” James smiled. Behind him, his secretary was busy transcribing the conversational exchange on his audioscriber.

“What would you require to locate the base?” asked Walters.

“I haven’t worked out the details yet,” said Connel, “but a small expedition into the jungle would be better than sending a regiment of guardsmen, or a fleet of ships.”

“Do you have any idea where the base might be?” Sykes suddenly spoke up. “Most of those men were supposed to be planters who know the jungle well. Isn’t it possible that they might have their base well hidden and a small party, such as you suggest, could cover too little ground?”

Connel turned to Astro. “Astro, do you know that section of the belt?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Astro. “I hunted all over that area when I was a boy.” The big cadet went on to explain how he had become so familiar with the jungle, and described briefly their experience with the tyrannosaurus. All of the men at the table were impressed by his knowledge of jungle lore.

“I gather you plan to take these cadets on your expedition, Major,” commented James.