-18 rate
and a D-9 rate? Why is that so important?"

"It has to do with the pumps," replied the power-deck cadet. "They cool
the reactant fuel to keep it from getting too hot and wildcatting. At a
D-9 rate the reactant is hot enough to create power for normal flight.
Feeding at a D-18 rate is fine too, but you need pumps to cool the
motors, and pumps that could do the job would be too big."

"Kit's problem," commented Tom, "is not so much building the reactor,
but a cooling system to keep it under control."

"Will that make a big difference in who wins the race?" asked Roger.

"With that ship of Kit's," said Astro, shaking his head, "I doubt if
he'll be able to come even close to the top speeds in the trials unless
he can use the new reactor."

The room had filled up now and Strong rapped on the desk for attention.
He stared at the faces of the men before him, men who had spent their
lives in space. They were the finest pilots and crew chiefs in the solar
system. They sat quietly and attentively as Strong gave them the details
of the greatest race of spaceships in over a hundred years.

After Strong had outlined the plans for the time trials, he concluded,
"Each of you competing in the time trials will be given a blast-off time
and an orbital course. Only standard, Solar-Guard-approval equipment
will be allowed in the tests. I will monitor the trials, and Space
Cadets Corbett, Manning, and Astro will be in complete charge of all
inspections of your ships." Strong paused and looked around. "Are there
any questions?"

"When will the first ship blast off, Captain Strong?" asked a lean and
leathery-looking spaceman in the back of the room.

"First time trial takes place at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. Each ship
has a designated time. Consult your schedules for the blast-off time of
your ships."

"What if a ship isn't ready?" asked Kit Barnard, who had slipped into
the room unnoticed.

"Any ship unable to blast off at scheduled time," said Strong, finding
it difficult to look at his old friend, "will be eliminated."

There was a sudden murmur in the room and Quent Miles rose quickly.
"That's not much time to prepare our ships," he said. "I don't know
who's going to be first, but I can't even strip my ship by tomorrow
morning, let alone soup up the reactant." His voice was full of
contempt, and he glanced around the room at the other pilots. "Seems to
me we're being treated a little roughly."

There were severa