grimly. "And Kit Barnard."

"Has Barnard got that new reactor of his working yet?"

"I don't think so. But I have no way of telling."

"If he has, you're not going to win this race," said Quent, shaking his
head. "Nor is anyone else."

"You are here for one reason," said Brett pointedly.

"I know." Quent grinned. "To win a race."

"Right."

Quent laughed. "With those heaps you've fooled people into thinking are
spaceships? Don't make me laugh."

"There are going to be time trials before the race," said Brett. "The
three fastest ships are going to make the final run. I'm not worried
about the race itself. I've got a plan that will assure us of winning.
It's the time trials that's got me bothered."

"Leave that to me," said Quent.

The jet cab pulled up to the main gate of the spaceport and the two men
got out. Far across the field, a slender, needle-nosed ship stood poised
on her stabilizer fins ready for flight. She was black except for a red
band painted on the hull across the forward section and around the few
viewports. It gave her the appearance of a huge laughing insect. Quent