"Better leave them alone, Steve," said Walters. "We have to get a medical officer for them. They look as if they've been bumped pretty hard."
Strong stood up abruptly and walked over to Miles, who lounged casually in his chair. Ignoring Walters, the Solar Guard captain stood in front of the black-suited spaceman, his jaw within an inch of the other man's face.
"If anything serious has happened to those two boys, Miles," he said in a cold, flat voice, full of menace, "I'll tear you apart!"
Miles paled for an instant and then grinned uneasily. "Don't worry about it, Strong. They're pretty tough kids."
Kit Barnard suddenly burst into the control room. "I've searched the cargo holds, Commander," he said. "Nothing there but lead boxes. Didn't find the boys—" Barnard stopped suddenly at the sight of the two unconscious cadets. "Tom! Roger!" he cried.
"They were slugged, Kit," said Strong. "You go back to the Polaris and send out an emergency call. Find the closest ship with a medical officer aboard and arrange for a meeting out here in space. We'll be ready to blast in five minutes."
"O.K., Steve," replied Kit, turning to the door and then stopping to glare at Miles. "And save a piece of that space 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.