ned to
the teleceiver to make his report to Commander Walters at Space Academy,
they took their stations for touchdown at Marsopolis.

His face impassive on the teleceiver screen, Commander Walters listened
to Strong's report, and when the Solar Guard officer finished, he
grunted his satisfaction.

"Do you have any news on Wallace and Simms, sir?" asked Strong.

"Yes, but my news isn't as good as yours," frowned Walters. "They've
already made use of their knowledge of the light-key. They held up a
Solar Guard transport en route to Titan and emptied her armory. They
took a couple of three-inch atomic blasters and a dozen paralo-ray guns
and rifles. Opened the energy lock with their adjustable light-key as
easily as if it had been a paper bag. It looks as though they're setting
themselves up for a long siege."

"Do you have any idea where they might be hiding, sir?"

"Somewhere in the asteroid belt, I believe," replied the commander.
"They headed for the belt after they held up the transport."

"Well, we'll do what we can from our end, sir," said Strong. "Since Mars
is closer to the asteroid belt than any other planet, they might be
using Marsopolis as a hangout. Or someone might have seen them
recently."

"Use whatever plan you think best, Steve. I'm counting on you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Spaceman's luck! End transmission."

"End transmission," replied Strong and flipped off the screen.

Fifteen minutes later, the _Dog Star_ settled on a blast-scorched ramp
at the Marsopolis spaceport, and after a hasty review of their plans,
the four spacemen left the ship. Strong had a brief argument with a
customs officer over a personal search for small arms. They were forced
to leave their paralo-ray guns on the ship. Disgruntled, as far as the
customs agents were concerned, Strong was actually pleased with the
success of their disguise as merchant spacemen.

Tom and Strong found the Spacelanes Bar in the roughest and darkest
section of Marsopolis. It was large and almost empty. But Tom noted that
it was just like many other such places he had been in in Luna City. The
walls were scarred and dirty, the floor littered, and the tables and
chairs looking as if they had been used in a hundred fights. Behind a
bar that ran the length of one wall, a heavy-set man with beady black
eyes watched their approach.

"What's your pleasure, spacemen?" asked the bartender in a gruff voice.

Strong hesitated a moment and decided to