Quent Miles spun around, his paralo-ray gun leveled. He saw a figure enter through the hatch, but when light revealed the face he relaxed.
"Oh, it's you!" he grumbled. "I thought you were setting things up back at Atom City."
"You fumble-fisted, space-gassing jerk!" snarled Charley Brett. "Depend on you to get things messed up! That Barnard guy is all set to roll with his reactor!"
"Then why didn't Ross take care of him on the Moon?" asked Miles.
"He didn't land," replied Brett. "He kept going and made the whole trip without refueling that new unit of his. It's so good that he got back here still carrying half a tank of reactant."
"Well, you haven't any kick with me," asserted Miles. "I dumped that stuff in his tanks."
"Then how come he made it so fast?" growled Brett. "How come he made it at all?"
"How should I know?" snapped Quent. "Listen, Charley, lay off me. You might be able to order Ross around, but you don't scare me. And I don't think you have Ross fooled either."
"Never mind that now!" said Brett irritably. "We've got to line things up for the race. Listen! Ross left Luna City this morning for the hide-out. Here's what I want you to do. After you blast off—" Brett's voice dropped to a whisper and Quent's eyes opened with understanding, and then his rugged features broke out into a grin as Brett continued talking.
Finally Brett straightened up. "I'm going on out to Titan now to see if things are O.K. You got everything clear?"