"All right. Tom, I guess that means you ride with Wild Bill Sticoon."

"That's all right with me, sir," the young cadet said excitedly. "This
is something I'll be able to tell my grandchildren--riding with the
hottest spaceman in the hottest race through space."

* * * * *

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?"