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"Yes, sir," replied Tom, walking slowly to the teleceiver. "I'm sorry I can't remember where I saw that man."
"Forget it," Connel said gruffly. "It'll come to you again sometime." He paused and then added as gently as he could, "Sorry I blasted you like that."
When Commander Walters' face appeared on the teleceiver screen, Connel reported the incident of the cab driver and the news that Tom, Roger, and Astro had seen the three men who had taken the priorities on the _Venus Lark_.
"Just a minute," said Walters. "I'll have a recorder take down the descriptions."
Connel motioned to Tom, who stepped before the screen. When he saw Walters nod, he gave a complete description of the three men he had seen in the Atom City s.p.a.ceport.
"Let's see, now," said Walters, after Tom had concluded his report. "The man who asked for the tickets was young, about twenty-two, dressed in Venusian clothing, dark, six feet tall, weighed about one hundred and fifty pounds. Right?"
"Yes, sir," replied Tom.
Connel suddenly stepped before the screen to interject, "And Corbett saw him in Venusport again sometime during the last two days."
"Really? Where?"
Connel glanced at Tom and then replied hurriedly, "Well, he can't be sure, sir. We rushed him around pretty fast and he saw a lot of people.
But at least we know he's in Venusport somewhere."
"Yes," nodded Walters. "That's something to work on, at least. And you have nothing more to add to the descriptions of the other two, Corbett?"
"Not anything particular, sir," said Tom. "They were dressed in Venusian-type clothes also, but we didn't get a close look at them."
"Very well," said Walters. "Proceed with your mission, Major. I'll have an alert sent out for the cab driver, and I'll have the owner of the p.a.w.nshop picked up. There must be someone on the Solar Delegate's staff who stole those priorities. We'll start searching there first, and if we come up with anyone who can't explain his absence from Venusport at the time the priorities were used, and fits Corbett's description, we'll contact you. End transmission!"
"End transmission!" repeated Connel. The screen blanked out and Roger's voice came over the intercom immediately. "We'll be over Sinclair's in three minutes," he called. "Stand by."
Tom turned to the controls and in exactly two minutes and fifty seconds the clearing surrounding Sinclair's home and the burned outbuildings came into view. Working effortlessly, with almost casual teamwork, the three cadets brought the giant s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p to rest in the middle of the clearing. As the power was cut, the cadets saw George and Mrs. Hill jumping into a jet car and speeding out to greet them.
After Tom introduced Connel to the couple, the major questioned them closely about their absence during the attack by the shock troops.
"Mr. Sinclair often gives us time off for a trip into Venusport,"
explained Hill. "It gets pretty lonely out here."
"Is Mr. Sinclair in now?" asked Connel.
"No, he isn't," replied the plantation foreman. "He's on his weekly trip around the outer fields. I don't expect him back for another day or two."
"For goodness sakes," exclaimed Mrs. Hill, "you can ask your questions just as easily and a darn sight more comfortably in the house! Come on.
Let's get out of the sun."
The small group climbed into the jet car and roared off across the clearing toward the house. The lone building left standing by the Nationalists looked strange amid the charred ruins of the other buildings. In the house, the three cadets busied themselves with home-baked apple pie which the housekeeper had brought out, while Connel was telling George of the attack on the plantation.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
"I've known about them all along, of course," said the foreman. "But I never paid any attention to them. I just quit, like Mr. Sinclair, when they started all that tomfoolery about wearing uniforms and stuff."
"Well," said Connel, accepting a wedge of pie at Mrs. Hill's insistence, "now they've made the wrong move. Burning Sinclair's property and attacking an officer of the Solar Guard is going too far."
"What are you going to do about it?" asked George.
"I'm not at liberty to say, Mr. Hill," replied Connel. "But I can tell you this. When any person, or group of persons, tries to dictate to the Alliance, the Solar Guard steps in and puts a stop to it!"
Suddenly the silence of the jungle clearing was shattered by the roar of a single jet craft coming in for a landing. Without looking out the window, George smiled and said, "There's Mr. Sinclair now! I know the sound of his jets."
The group crowded out onto the front porch while George took the jet car and drove off to pick up his employer. A few moments later Sinclair was seated before Connel, wiping his sweating brow and accepting a cool drink from Mrs. Hill.
"I was on my way to the north boundary when I saw your s.h.i.+p landing,"
explained Sinclair. "At first I thought it might be those devils coming back, but then I saw the Solar Guard insigne on the s.h.i.+p and figured it might be you." He looked at Connel closely. "Anything new, Major?"
"Not yet," replied Connel. "But you can rest a.s.sured that you won't be bothered by them again."
Sinclair paused, eying the major speculatively. "You know, as soon as you left, I went over to talk to Al Sharkey. I was plenty mad and really blasted him, but he swears that he was in Venusport at the time and doesn't know a thing about the raid."
Connel nodded. "That's true. We checked on him. But while he might not have been in on the raid itself, there's nothing that says he didn't order it done!"
"I doubt it," said Sinclair, with a queer apologetic note in his voice.
"I'm inclined to believe that it was nothing more than a bunch of the younger, more hotheaded kids in the organization. As a matter of fact, Sharkey told me he was quitting as president. Seems you fellows in Venusport scared him plenty. Not only that, but I heard him calling up the other planters telling them what happened and every one of them is chipping in to rebuild my plantation."
Connel looked at the planter steely-eyed. "So you think it was done by a bunch of kids, huh?"
Sinclair nodded. "Wouldn't be surprised if they're not scared too!"
"Well, you are ent.i.tled to your opinion, Mr. Sinclair. And if the other planters are going to rebuild your buildings, that's fine and charitable of them." Suddenly Connel's voice became harsh. "That does not, however, erase the fact that a group of uniformed men, armed with paralo-ray guns and with s.h.i.+ps equipped with blasters, attacked you! Atomic blasters, Mr. Sinclair, are not bought at the local credit exchange. They are made exclusively for the Solar Guard! That bunch of hotheaded kids, as you call them, are capable of attacking any community--even s.h.i.+ps of the Solar Guard itself! That is a threat to the peace of the solar system and must be stopped!"
Sinclair nodded quickly. "Oh, I agree, Major, I agree. I'm just saying that--"
Connel stopped him. "I understand, Mr. Sinclair. You're a peaceful man and want to keep your life peaceful. But my job is to ensure that peace.
As long as a group of militant toughs like we had here are on the loose, you won't have peace. You'll have pieces!"
Tom, Roger, and Astro, sitting quietly and listening, felt like standing up and cheering as the major finished.
"I know you can't tell me what you're going to do, Major Connel," said the planter, "but I hope that you'll allow me to help in any way I can."
Connel hesitated before answering. "Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. But I'm not here officially now." And then he added, "Nor in regard to the Nationalists."
Sinclair's eyes lit up slightly. "Oh?"
"No. As you know, the cadets had quite a time with a tyrannosaurus. They wounded it and it might still be dangerous. That is, more dangerous than normally. I've got orders to track him down and finish him off."
"But I thought you said you were going to put a stop to this business with the Nationalists," said the planter.
"I said the Solar Guard would, Sinclair."
"Oh, yes," mumbled Sinclair, "the Solar Guard. Of course."
Connel got up abruptly. "I would appreciate it if you would look after our s.h.i.+p, though," he said. "I don't think we'll be longer than a week.