Treachery in Outer Space | Page 6

followed Walters' statement, no one noticed
Tom, Roger, and Astro slip into the room. They finally caught the eye
of Captain Strong, who acknowledged their presence with a slight nod,
as they found seats in the rear of the room.
"Commander," a voice spoke up from the middle of the group, "may I
make a statement?"
"Certainly, Mr. Barnard," agreed Walters, and stepped back from his
desk as a tall, slender man in his late thirties rose to address the men
around him. The three Space Cadets stared at him with interest. They
had heard of Kit Barnard. A former Solar Guard officer, he had
resigned from the great military organization to go into private
space-freight business. Though a newcomer, with only a small outfit,
he was well liked and respected by every man in the room. And
everyone present knew that when he spoke, he would have something
important to say, or at least advance a point that should be brought to
light.
"I have no doubt," said Barnard in a slow, positive manner, "that the
decision to substitute a space race between us as a means of awarding
the contract was well considered by the Solar Council." He turned and
shot Brett a flinty look. "And under the circumstances, I, for one,
accept their decision." He sat down abruptly.
There were cries of: "Hear! Hear!" "Righto!" "Very good!"

"No!" shouted Brett, leaping to his feet. "By the craters of Luna, it isn't
right! I demand to know exactly who submitted the lowest bid!"
Walters sighed and shuffled through several papers on his desk. "You
are within your rights, Mr. Brett," he said, eying the man speculatively.
"It was you."
[Illustration]
"Then why in blue blazes didn't I get the contract?" screamed Brett.
"For several reasons," replied Walters. "Your contract offered us the
lowest bid in terms of money, but specified very slow schedules. On
the other hand, Universal Spaceways Limited planned faster schedules,
but at a higher cost. Kit Barnard outbid both of you in money and
schedules, but he has only two ships, and we were doubtful of his
ability to complete the contract should one of his ships crack up. The
other companies offered, more or less, the same conditions. So you can
understand our decision now, Mr. Brett." Walters paused and glared at
the man. "The Solar Council sat in a continuous forty-eight-hour
session and considered everyone. The space race was finally decided on,
and voted for by every member. Schedules were the most vital point
under consideration. But other points could not be ignored, and these
could only be determined by actual performance. Now, does that
answer all your questions, Mr. Brett?"
"No, it doesn't!" yelled Brett.
"Oh, sit down, Brett!" shouted a voice from the back of the room.
"Yes! Sit down and shut up!" called another. "We're in this too, you
know!"
Brett turned on them angrily, but finally sat down, scowling.
In the rear of the room Tom nudged Roger. "Boy! The commander sure
knows how to lay it on the line when he wants to, doesn't he?"

"I'll say!" replied Roger. "That guy Brett better watch out. Both the
commander and Captain Strong look as if they're ready to pitch him out
on his ear."
Six feet tall, and looking crisp, sure, and confident in his
black-and-gold uniform, Captain Steve Strong stood near Walters and
scowled at Brett. Unit instructor for the Polaris crew and Commander
Walters' executive officer, Strong was not as adept as Walters in
masking his feelings, and his face clearly showed his annoyance at
Brett's outbursts. He had sat the full forty-eight hours with the Council
while they argued, not over costs, but in an effort to make sure that
none of the companies would be slighted in their final decision. It made
his blood boil to see someone like Brett selfishly disregard these efforts
at fairness.
"That is all the information I can give you, gentlemen," said Walters
finally. "Thank you for your kind attention"--he shot an ironic glance at
Brett--"and for your understanding of a difficult situation. Now you
must excuse me. Captain Strong, whom you all know, will fill in the
details of the race."
As Walters left the room, Strong stepped to the desk, faced the
assembly, and spoke quickly. "Gentlemen, perhaps some of you are
acquainted with the present jet car race that takes place each year? The
forerunner of that race was the Indianapolis Five-Hundred-Mile Race
of some few hundred years ago. We have adopted their rules for our
own speed tests. Time trials will be held with all interested companies
contributing as many ships that they think can qualify, and the three
ships that make the fastest time will be entered in the actual race. This
way we can eliminate the