Treachery in Outer Space Part 37

"O.K., Steve," replied Kit, turning to the door and then stopping to glare at Miles. "And save a piece of that s.p.a.ce rat for me!"

Under Barnard's steely look, Miles rose to his feet and stepped back hesitantly. Then, suddenly, he jumped up on the chair, scrambled to the top of the master control panel, and crouched there tensely.

Strong, Walters, and Kit were momentarily stunned by his strange action.

It seemed like a senseless and futile effort to get away. There was no way Miles could get out of the control deck or off the ship.

Beyond the reach of anyone on the control deck, Miles began to laugh.

Walters turned beet red with anger. "This is stupid, Miles!" he roared.

"You can't get away and you know it!"

"That all depends on where you're standing, Walters!" said a voice from the hatch.

The three s.p.a.cemen whirled at the sound of the voice and were dumfounded by the appearance of Quent Miles, standing to one side of the hatch, holding an automatic paralo-ray rifle, trained on them.

"Stay right where you are," he said softly. "The first man that moves gets frozen solid!"

Walters, Strong, and Kit were too stunned to make a move. They could only stare in open disbelief at Quent Miles.

"Come on down, Ross!" called Quent. "And if anyone tries to stop him, I'll let all three of you have it!"

Ross climbed down from the control panel and stripped the three helpless s.p.a.cemen of their weapons. He threw them out of the hatch and then went to stand by his brother. As they stood side by side, Strong and Walters couldn't help but gasp at the identical features of the two men.

"You can never hope to get away, either of you," growled Walters, when he finally regained his composure.

Quent laughed. "We're doing more than just hope, Walters."

"Just for your information," Ross chimed in, "we're changing ships and taking the cargo with us." He backed toward the hatch slowly. "Come on, Quent." The two brothers stepped back through the doorway, Ross keeping his rifle leveled at the three men.

Safely outside, Quent slammed the heavy door closed. Then, with a rocket wrench, he worked on the outer nuts of the door used in emergency to seal off the ship by compartments.

"All set!" said Quent, stepping back. "They can't get out now until someone comes and loosens up those nuts."

"Get down below and start transferring that cargo to the _Polaris_,"

ordered Ross, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. "I'll get on the audioceiver and tell that cruiser squadron to go back."

Quent laughed. "You know, Ross, this is terrific," he chortled. "We not only get away, but we get ourselves a Solar Guard rocket cruiser.

n.o.body'll be able to touch us in that ship."

"n.o.body but me, Miles!" said a voice behind them. The two brothers spun around to see Astro, stripped to the waist, a heavy lug wrench in his hand, legs spread apart, ready to spring.

"Had me fooled there for a while, Ross!" he growled. "I saw your brother back at the Academy and thought it was you. But he didn't have the split ear lobe, the one I gave you. Remember?"

Ross slowly reached for the rifle that was slung over his shoulder.

"Don't do it, Ross!" warned Astro. "Get your hands off that rifle or I'll ram this wrench down your throat!"

Ross lowered his hand again slowly.

"Who is this guy, Ross?" asked Quent, licking his lips nervously. "How does he know about us?"

Ross kept his eyes on Astro, glaring at the cadet in hot fury. "I met him on a deep s.p.a.cer, five years ago, when you were laid up in the hospital," he said between his teeth. "This punk was a wiper on the power deck. I was his petty officer."

"We got into a fight," snarled Astro, "when he wanted to send me into a firing chamber without letting it cool off first."

"There are two of us now, Astro!" said Ross.

Astro nodded slowly. "That's right. Two of you!" Suddenly he dove toward the two men, arms outstretched. With one mighty swipe of the wrench he knocked Quent unconscious. Ross was hurled against the bulkhead by the impact but managed to stay on his feet. Desperately he tore the paralo-ray rifle from his shoulder, but before he could level it, Astro was upon him, wrenching it out of his grasp. Pushing Ross away, he calmly broke it in two and threw the pieces to one side. Then he faced the black-clad s.p.a.ceman squarely.

"I was a kid when I first saw you, Ross," he said between his teeth. "So you had me fooled like everyone else. When your brother showed up at the Academy with his ears in good shape, I thought it was a curious coincidence two guys should look so much alike. And on t.i.tan, when you had me hauling up those boxes, you wore your hat all the time, along with the oxygen mask, so I didn't think anything of it. But now I know!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

All the while Astro talked, the two men circled each other like two wrestlers, each waiting for his opponent to make a mistake.

"So you know!" sneered Ross. "All right, wiper, come on!"

The black-suited s.p.a.ceman suddenly dove straight at Astro and the cadet caught the full force of his body in his stomach. He sprawled on the deck, gasping. Miles was on top of him in a second, hands at Astro's throat.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Fire danced in the cadet's brain as Ross Miles' steely fingers closed around his windpipe. Slowly, with every ounce of strength he had in his body, Astro grasped Miles' wrists in his hands and began squeezing. The fingers around the muscular wrists were the fingers of a boy filled with hate and revenge. Slowly, very slowly, as the seconds ticked away and the wind whistled raggedly in his throat, Astro increased the enormous pressure.

Now he felt the fingers around his throat begin to relax a little, and then a little more, and he kept tightening the pressure of his mighty hands. Expressions of surprise and then pain spread across Miles' face and he finally relaxed his grip around Astro's throat. He struggled to free himself from the viselike grip but it was hopeless.

Astro continued to apply pressure. He forced Miles up from his chest and then up on his feet, never relenting. Miles' face was now twisted in agony.

They stood on the deck, face to face, for almost a minute in silent struggle. There seemed to be no end to the power in the cadet's hands.

Suddenly Ross Miles slumped to his knees and sprawled on the deck as Astro let him go. The black-clad s.p.a.ceman had fainted.

"They got a couple of hard b.u.mps, but they'll be all right," announced the medical officer, straightening up. "But that man outside, Ross Miles, is going to stand trial with a broken wrist!" He turned to Strong. "What do you feed these cadets?"

Strong smiled and replied, "These are special types we train to take care of s.p.a.ce rats!"

Tom and Roger lay stretched out on emergency cots set up on the control deck of the _Polaris_. They grinned weakly at Astro, who hovered over them solicitously.

"This is the first time we've ever wound up an a.s.signment on our backs, you big Venusian hick!" said Roger. "And I suppose I'll have to thank you for saving my life!"

Astro grinned. "Wasn't much to save, Roger."

"Listen you!" Roger rose on one elbow, but the medical officer pressed him gently back on the cot.

"Did you ever find out how Bill Stic.o.o.n's ship was sabotaged, Captain Strong?" asked Tom.

"We sure did, Tom," said Strong. "One of Brett's confederates slugged the Solar Guard officer in charge of monitoring the race on Deimos and took his place. If it hadn't been for a brash stereo reporter that kept taking pictures of everything and everyone, the impersonator wouldn't have been caught."