ght here, Astro," replied Tom immediately. "Boy, you certainly are
burning up space! What have you got in your fuel tanks? Light speed?"

"Just a little thing we whipped up," said Astro with a grin. "What is
your ETA on Deimos, Tom?"

"Less than five minutes. Four minutes and thirty seconds, to be exact.
Think you can beat that?"

"If we can't beat it, we can equal it!" said Astro. "See you on the
Martian moon, buddy! End transmission!"

Steadily, the _Good Company_ rocketed through space, eating up the miles
and gaining on the _Space Lance_. Both ships now made contact with the
control tower on Deimos and received landing instructions.

"_Space Lance_ will touch down on Ramp Three, _Good Company_ on Ramp
Six," crackled the voice of the Deimos tower operator, "and don't forget
your approach orbits!"

"Have you heard from the _Space Knight_?" called Tom.

"Sorry, _Space Lance_," came the reply, "there has been no contact with
_Space Knight_."

Tom began to feel the fingers of fear creeping up and down his spine.
Quent Miles had carried out his plan of going on to Ganymede without
refueling, threatening not only his own life, but Roger's as well.

Sticoon completed the three circling passes around Deimos and shouted to
Tom over his shoulder. "Stand by, Corbett. We're ready to go in!"

Tom strapped himself into his acceleration chair and, watching the
atmospheric altimeter, a delicate instrument that recorded their height
above the surface of a heavenly body, began to call off the indicated
figures.

"Five thousand feet, four, three--dropping too fast--compensate for
lesser gravity--two thousand, one, five hundred, two hundred--" Tom
braced himself and seconds later felt the impact of the ship settling
stern first on the concrete ramp. "Touchdown," he sang out in a clear
voice.

While Sticoon secured the control deck, closing the many switches and
circuits on the master panel, Tom opened the air lock. Almost
immediately, special-trained crews swarmed into the ship to refuel her
and prepare her for the next lap of the race. Tom and Sticoon stepped
out onto the spaceport of the tiny moon of Mars and gazed up at the red
planet that loomed large over the horizon. As a transfer point for the
great passenger liners that rocketed between Venusport, Atom City, and
Marsopolis, the refueling station at Deimos was well staffed and
expertly manned.

Standing at the air lock, Tom and Sticoon heard the blasting roar of t