ved the paralo-ray gun into Brooks' stomach. The
man gulped and finally found his voice.

"Say, what is this? A gag? Where did you get that paralo-ray?" Then
suddenly he shoved the bundle of notes in his pocket. "Oh, no, you
don't! You're not going to steal my share!"

"I don't want your money!" said Tom coldly. "Get into that locker and
keep your mouth shut, or I'll blast you!"

"Locker? Say, what's the matter with you? You gone space happy?"

"Get in there," growled Tom. At the look on the cadet's face, Brooks
rose quickly and stepped into the locker. Tom slammed the door and
locked it. Then, locking the passageway hatch, he turned to the radar
scanner. Working quickly with deft hands, he opened the casing around
the delicate instrument and began disconnecting the major terminals.
Studying the complicated tangle of connections, he wished that he had as
much knowledge of radar as Roger.

He finally found the wires he wanted and separated them from the other
connections. He began replacing them, altering the terminals. After
checking his work, to make sure it would not short-circuit, he grabbed
the intercom and began taking it apart. Sweat beaded his forehead. Time
was short. Soon Coxine would miss him and come looking for him. He had
to complete his job before that happened.

After moments that seemed like hours he was ready. Using one of the
intercom relays he began tapping out a message in Morse code on an
exposed wire from the scanner. He looked at the radar scanner and
watched it flash white static lines each time he touched the wires.
Carefully he tapped out a message.

" ... emergency ... attention ... Corbett ... Space Cadet ... aboard ...
Coxine ... pirate ... ship ... space quadrant ... B ... section ...
twenty ... three ..."

Over and over he repeated the desperate message, hoping against hope
that someone would be scanning space and the interference would show up
on their radar.

" ... emergency ... attention ... Corbett ... Space Cadet--"

* * * * *

"Captain Strong!" Roger's voice came shrieking over the ship's intercom.
"Captain! Quick! I'm picking up a message from Tom!"

"What?" cried the Solar Guard officer. "Nail it! I'm coming up!"

Scrambling up the ladder to the radar bridge from the control deck,
Captain Strong rushed over to the scanner and watched eagerly as
blinking flashes washed out the background of the screen.

Slowly, at times unevenly, the m