eyed the vessel with a practiced eye.

"I'll have to soup her up," he commented. "She wouldn't win a foot race
now."

"Don't depend too heavily on your speed," said Brett. "I would just as
soon win by default. After all," he continued, looking at Miles with
calculating eyes, "serious accidents could delay the other ships."

"Sure. I know what you mean," replied the spaceman.

"Good!" Brett turned away abruptly and headed for the ship. Quent
following him. In a little while the white-hot exhaust flare from the
rocket tubes of the sleek ship splattered the concrete launching apron
and it lifted free of the ground. Like an evil, predatory bug, the ship
blasted toward the Academy spaceport.

* * * * *

"Well, blast my jets!" Astro gasped, stopping in his tracks and
pointing. Tom and Roger looked out over the quadrangle toward the
Academy spaceport where ship after ship, braking jets blasting, sought
the safety of the ground.

"Great galaxy," exclaimed Tom, his eyes bulging, "there must be a
hundred ships!"

"At least," commented Roger.

"But they can't all be here for the trials," said Astro.