CHAPTER 20

"What's that noise, Tom?"

The two cadets were walking through the tunnel when they heard the

strange booming roar. Behind them, Sinclair overheard Roger's whispered

question and laughed. "That is the sound of the slaves being fed their

lunch. They do not know yet that there has been a battle and soon

they'll be free!"

"Slaves!" gasped Roger. "What kind of slaves?"

"You shall see. Keep going!" Sinclair prodded the cadets with his ray

gun. The tunnel had grown larger and the downward slant of the floor

lessened as they pressed forward. The noise ahead of them grew louder

and stronger and now they could distinguish occasional words above the

din.

"We must pass through the big vault where the slaves are working," said

Sinclair. "I would advise you to keep your mouths shut and do as I say!"

Neither Tom nor Roger answered, keeping their eyes straight ahead.

The tunnel suddenly cut sharply to the right and they could see a blaze

of light in front of them. The two boys stopped involuntarily, and then

were nudged forward by Sinclair's guns. Before them was a huge cavern

nearly a thousand yards high and three thousand yards across,

illuminated by hundreds of torches. Along one side of the cave a line of

men were waiting to have battered tin plates filled from a huge pot at

the head of the line. The men were in rags, and every one of them was

hardly more than skin and bones. At strategic places around the cavern,

Nationalist guards kept their guns trained and ready to fire. They

brought up their guns quickly as Tom and Roger entered, and then lowered

them again as Sinclair appeared. Every eye turned to the Nationalist

leader as he marched across the floor of the cave, Tom and Roger walking

before him.

"You see," said Sinclair, "these wretched fools thought my organization

was a utopia until they learned that I was no better for them than the

Solar Guard. Unfortunately they learned too late and were sent here to

dig underground pits for my spaceships and storage dumps."

The small column of three marched across the floor of the cave toward

another small tunnel on the opposite side. The slaves were absolutely

still, and the guards smiled a greeting at their leader when he passed

them.

Sinclair ignored them all. "Beyond that tunnel," he continued, pointing

to the small opening ahead of them, "there is a spaceship. We will board

that ship and blast off. The three of us. Where we will go, I haven't

decided yet. Perhaps a long trip into deep space until the Solar Guard

has forgotten about you and me and the Nationalists. Then we will

return, as I said before, to Mars, or perhaps Ganymede, and I will start

all over again."

"You're mad!" said Tom through clenched teeth. "Crazy as a space bug!"

"We shall see, Corbett. We shall see!"

Suddenly Roger broke away and raced toward the mass of slaves. He

shouted wildly, "Get the guards! The Nationalists are beaten! The base

in the canyon has been destroyed! Hurry! Rebel!"

The emaciated men milled around the cadet, all asking questions at once.

Sinclair signaled to the guards. "Shoot him down!" Four guards took

careful aim.

"Roger! Look out!" warned Tom.

Roger whirled around in time to see the guards about to fire. He dived

for a mound of dirt and hid behind it. The energy shock waves licked at

the sand where he had stood a second before. Roger got up and ran for

better cover, the guards continuing to fire at him. Then, around the

cadet, the slave workers began to come alive. Some hurled stones at the

guards, others began climbing up the sides to the ledges where the

guards stood. Taking in the situation at a glance, Sinclair shoved the

ray gun in Tom's back and snarled, "Get going!"

The young cadet had no alternative. He turned and marched hurriedly

across the floor toward the small tunnel ahead of him. Several slave

workers tried to attack Sinclair, but in their weakened condition, they

were no match for the alert Nationalist leader who froze them instantly

with his paralo-ray gun.

Roger saw Tom heading for the tunnel and made a sudden dash for

Sinclair. But the rebel leader heard the pounding of footsteps and

turned to fire at Roger as the cadet sailed through the air in a flying

tackle. The jolting ray hit him squarely and he landed on the ground

with a thud a few feet from Sinclair, completely immobilized again.

Tom tried to seize the momentary advantage, but once again Sinclair was

quicker and forced Tom back into the small opening of the tunnel.

Around them, the slave workers were being whipped into a frenzy after

months of stored-up hatred for their guards. Hundreds of them were

climbing up toward the guards' posts, unmindful of the deadly fire

pouring down on them.

"Get in there quick!" demanded Sinclair. He shoved Tom through the small

opening, and after a quick glance over his shoulder at the surging

slaves, followed the cadet.

Sinclair flashed a light ahead of them and Tom saw the reflection of a

bright surface. In the distance he recognized the outlines of a

spaceship.

"Keep moving!" ordered Sinclair. "You're my protection in getting out of

here, and if I have to freeze you and carry you aboard, that's just what

I'll do! Now get moving!"

Tom walked to the air lock of the ship, Sinclair right in back of him.

The rebel leader pressed an outside button in the ship's stabilizer fin

and the port swung open slowly. "Get in!" growled Sinclair.

Tom stepped into the ship and waited. Sinclair climbed in in back of him

and closed the air lock.

"Through that hatch," said Sinclair, motioning toward the iron ladder,

"and keep your hands in the air."

"How do you think you're going to get through the Solar Guard fleet

that's standing off above the canyon?" asked Tom casually. "As soon as

they see this ship blast off, you'll have a hundred atomic war heads

blasting after you!"

"Not as long as I have you!" sneered Sinclair. "You're my protection!"

"You're wrong," said Tom. "They'll open fire, anyway."

"That's the chance I've got to take," said Sinclair. "Now climb up to

the control deck and get on the audioceiver. You're going to tell them

you're aboard!"

Tom walked ahead of the rebel leader toward the control deck, his mind

racing. He knew that Sinclair was going through with his plan and he

also knew that the Solar Guard would not pay any attention to anything

he had to say. If, after three warnings, Sinclair didn't brake jets and

bring his ship to a stop, he would be blasted out of space. He had to do

something.

"Where's the communicator?" asked Tom.

"Over by the radar scanner." Sinclair eyed him suspiciously. "Remember,

Corbett, your life depends on this as much as mine. If you don't

convince them you're worth saving by letting me get away, you're a dead

pigeon!"

"You don't have to tell me," said Tom. "I know when I'm licked."

Sinclair took his position in the pilot's chair, facing the control

panel. For a brief moment his back was to Tom as he bent over to turn on

the generators. Tom took a deep breath and lurched across the deck. But

Sinclair turned and saw him coming, and jerked up the ray gun. He wasn't

able to get clear in time. Tom's fingers circled the barrel of the gun

as Sinclair fired. The barrel grew hot as Sinclair fired repeatedly.

Tom's fingers were beginning to blister under the intense heat, but he

held on. With his other hand he reached up for the rebel's throat.

Sinclair grabbed his wrist and, locked together, they rolled around on

the deck.

[Illustration: _Sinclair wasn't able to get clear in time_]

Sinclair continued to fire the ray gun and Tom's fingers were burning

with pain from the heat. Suddenly the cadet let go the gun, spun around,

and jerked Sinclair off balance. He swung his free hand as hard as he

could into the rebel's stomach. Sinclair doubled over and staggered

back, dropping the gun. Tom was on top of him like a shot, pounding

straight, jolting rights and lefts to the man's head and stomach. But

Sinclair was tough. He twisted around, and quick as a cat, jumped to his

feet. Then, stepping in, he rapped a solid right to Tom's jaw. The cadet

reeled back, nearly falling to the deck. Sinclair was in on top of him

in a flash, pounding his head and body with vicious smashing blows.

Tom fell to the floor under the savagery of the rebel leader's attack.

Sinclair lifted his foot to kick the cadet as Tom's fingers tightened

around the barrel of the discarded ray gun. He brought it up sharply

against the planter's shin and he staggered back in pain. Tom took

careful aim. He fired the gun. Nothing happened. The gun was empty.

Sinclair rushed the cadet again, but Tom stepped aside and swung the

heavy gun with all his might. The metal smashed against Sinclair's head

and he sank to the deck, out cold.

The last rebel of Venus had been defeated.

* * * * *

"We found Roger trying to keep the slaves away from the guards," said

Strong. "They were ready to tear them apart!"

"Can't say that I blame them," snorted Connel. "Some of those poor

devils had been working in the caves for three years!"

Tom, Roger, and Astro sat sprawled in chairs in one of the offices of

the Nationalist headquarters listening to Strong and Major Connel sum up

the day's battle. The entire army of Nationalist guards, Division

Chiefs, and workers had been rounded up and put aboard the troop

carriers to be taken to a prison asteroid. Each individual rebel would

be dealt with under special court proceedings to be established by Solar

Alliance decree later.

"There are still some things I don't understand," said Astro. "How did

they know you were going to investigate them in the first place?"

"After our meeting with Commander Walters," said Connel, "we sent a

special coded message to the Solar Alliance Delegate here on Venus. His

secretary intercepted the message, used stolen priorities for himself

and two assistants to get to Earth and back on an express space liner

without being missed."

"The secretary!" shouted Tom. "That's the same fellow I saw in Atom City

when we were bumped out of our seats on the _Venus Lark_!"

Roger looked up at Tom with a scowl. "A fine time to remember!"

Strong grinned. "We discovered him, Tom, when that attempt was made to

kidnap you by the cab driver. We also picked up the owner of the

pawnshop."

"The most amazing thing about this space joker, Sinclair," commented

Connel, "was the way he had everyone fooled. I couldn't figure out how

he was able to get around so quickly until I learned about those

buildings."

"What buildings?" asked Tom, suddenly remembering how the rebel leader

had disappeared so quickly and quietly when he was being held captive

with Mr. and Mrs. Hill in the Sinclair home.

"Every one of the important members of the organization, the Division

Chiefs, they called themselves, had a small shack on his property near

the edge of the jungle. It was nothing more than a covering for a shaft

that led to a tunnel, which, in turn, led to other tunnels under the

jungle and eventually connected with one leading right into the base."

"You mean," said Astro, "they have underground tunnels all through the

jungle?"

"That's right," asserted Connel. "If they had been prepared for our

attack, they could have beaten the pants off us. Not only in space, but

on the ground. They could have run circles around us in those tunnels. I

got suspicious when I found a hut at the Sharkey place with no windows

in it."

"Say, remember the time Sinclair barked at me for going near that shack

on his place when we first arrived?" said Roger.

Connel grinned. "I'll bet you a plugged credit that if you had opened

that door you'd have been frozen stiffer than a snowman on Pluto."

"Well, anyhow," said Tom happily, "we got what we came after."

"What was that?" asked Strong.

"A tyrannosaurus!" replied the curly-haired cadet.

"And that's another thing," said Connel. "That tyrannosaurus we killed

was a pet of the Nationalists. I don't mean a household pet, but it

fitted into their plans nicely. The tyranno's lair was near the top of

that canyon. Any time a stray hunter came along, the tyrannosaurus would

scare him away. So when you three came along and said you were

deliberately hunting for a tyrannosaurus, they got worried."

"Worried?" asked Roger. "Why?"

"They thought you were actually hunting or investigating them, and when

I started nosing around, they were sure. That's why Sinclair ordered his

boys to burn down his plantation--to try to throw us off the track. So

you see," Connel concluded, "your summer leave really started the ball

rolling against them."

"Summer leave!" shouted Roger. "What day is it?"

"The twenty-ninth of August," replied Strong.

"Oh, no!" moaned the blond-haired cadet. "We start back to class in

three days!"

"Three days!" roared Astro. "But--but it'll take three days to write up

our reports of everything that's happened! We won't have any time for

fun!"

"Fun!" snorted Connel. "Fun is for little boys. You three space-brained,

rocket-headed idiots are spacemen!"

[Illustration]

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| Transcriber's Note |

| |

| One instance of "nearby" was changed to "near-by" to conform |

| with the hyphenation in the rest of the text. |

| |

| The following typos were corrected: |

| |

| Get "Get |

| it It |

| get's gets |

| surpressed suppressed |

| order ordered |

| |

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