it would look like Quent Miles. He shivered uncontrollably and waited.
Finally Miles turned to him, a mocking smile on his face.

"Well, Charley? What are we waiting for?"

A few moments later they were speeding through the broad streets of Atom
City in a jet cab on the way to the Atom City spaceport.

"What's this all about?" demanded Quent, settling back in his seat. "Why
the rush call?"

"I didn't get the contract to haul the crystal," replied Brett grimly.
"All the bids were so close the Solar Council decided to have a space
race out to Titan to pick the outfit that would get the job."

Quent turned toward him, surprised. "But I thought you had all that
sewed up tight!" he exclaimed. "I thought after you got your hands on
the--"

"Shut up!" interrupted Brett. "The details on the specifications leaked
out. Now the only way I can get the contract is to win the race."

"And I'm the guy to do it?" asked Quent with a smile.

"That's what you're here for. If we don't win this race, we're finished.
Washed up!"

"Who else is in the race?"

"Every other major space-freight outfit in the system," replied Brett