Kemlo and the Space Lanes
(1955)*
E. C. Eliot

Contents

CHAPTER 1 - New World
CHAPTER 2 - The Ghost Run
CHAPTER 3 - The Fiery Spectrum
CHAPTER 4 - Search Without Answer
CHAPTER 5 - Dangerous Experiment
CHAPTER 6 - Keep Quiet!
CHAPTER 7 - Space Armada
CHAPTER 8 - Trim the Diamond!
CHAPTER 9 - Captain Heralgo
CHAPTER 10 - The Assembly
CHAPTER 11 - Danger Sign
CHAPTER 12 -Speed and Fury
CHAPTER 13 - Work and Fight
CHAPTER 14 - Battle of the Rays
CHAPTER 15 - Box in the Sky
Book Information

CHAPTER 1
New World

	'Kree ... oww!' The slim flat space craft screamed across the blue void. The gravity pulse set up by the armour of holding rays rippled and bucked around its hull—man-made gravity in space which gave colossal speeds and equally terrific braking power to all craft, apart from acting as invincible armour against hurtling meteors, cosmic rays and solar penetration.

	'Shroo ... uush!' The craft flared as its pilot sent it banking into a spiral before levelling out and coming in fast side-slipping flats toward Kemlo's space scooter.

	When they were moored side by side and the holding rays adjusted to cover both craft, the pilot slid open the chute and walked across to the scooter. He wore the new light-weight space suit uniform of the Space Charter Corps; a shiny blue in colour and smart despite tire trappings of wide magnetic belt, ray gun and the life-giving canisters of diathene, oxygen and waste converters. Around his figure as he moved there rippled the aura of the holding rays generated from various points of the suit so that the man was enveloped by them. Perhaps of all the fantastic inventions made by Man in this space era, the holding rays rank as most important of many vital inventions, for without them Man's passage through, and life in, space would indeed be hazardous.

	The pilot's strongly featured face was shadowed behind the solar vizor of the space suit helmet, but Kemlo saw a flash of white teeth as the man adjusted his helmet speaker control and hailed the boy in the space scooter.

	'What do you think of it, Kemlo?'

	'Sounds fierce!' Kemlo grinned as he climbed from his scooter.

	 'Afraid of it?'

	'Of course not,' Kemlo replied stoutly. 'But I don't see how you get so much power. It's too flat to have a large expansion chamber in the power unit. What is its top speed, Cal?'

	Calvin Lester shrugged casually.

	'Around ten thousand at full gravity power. She hits about fifteen thousand on a spiral slide. That power unit is going to revolutionise our charter work. It's the smallest, most compact and powerful self-generating unit ever devised.' His voice was eager with enthusiasm as he continued: 'When we get the power for weight plus tensile strength of hull balanced properly in the big ships it will solve fuel problems for all time.'

	'I thought the pellets of urania we use for power in the scooters had solved it?'

	'Well, of course there's no comparison with units powered by pellets of urania and the old type propellent fuels,' Calvin admitted. 'Man wouldn't have built this new world in the sky if he'd had to continue to use thousands of tons of liquid fuel for every cargo ship sent up from Earth.'

	'Funny you should say that about the new world,' said Kemlo.

	'Why?'

	'Because my friends and I never think of it like that. It's our world and we were born into it. We don't have to wear space suits, and although we live an ordinary life in the open sections of the Satellite Belt, we don't know what it's like to have streets and buildings surrounding us like you have on Earth. It's not a new world to us—it's our world. And when we leave our Satellite Belt and go for thousands of miles in our space scooters, and sometimes visit the smaller and lesser known planets ...'

	'I wouldn't say that,' Calvin interrupted. 'If I remember rightly, you've been to the Moon and to the moonlets of Mars.'

	'We certainly have.' Kemlo grinned at the memory. 'Kerowski, Kartin and Koram, in fact several of the boys from other Satellite Belts have been with us, but most of the times we went with space-suited men like yourself from Earth; but as we don't have to wear space suits, there were many things we could do which they couldn't. It's only when we work with you in that way that we realise how different our life, is. I suppose you people living down on Earth looking up at the sky and seeing the tiny Belts spinning around a thousand miles above you, must always think of it as a new world.'

	'Yes, I suppose we must,' Calvin admitted. 'Of course, these Satellite Belts have been up here since I was a boy so I've got used to them and come to accept them, and so have my parents, but my grandparents remember them being built. They called it the conquest of space. And now we've got a generation of children born in space.' He grinned at Kemlo in a friendly way. 'And a fine-looking bunch you are, if I may say so,' he added.

	Kemlo gazed at the man seriously as he asked: 'Are we very different from Earth-boys, Cal?'

	'Now I wonder what you want me to answer to that? Do you want me to say that you're better or that you're the same ...'

	'Just the truth,' Kemlo interrupted. 'We have Earth-boys to visit us and although they always have to wear space suits we get along fine and they don't seem any different from us. We play the same sort of games in our games-room, but outside the Satellite Belt I think we're much more at home. Very often the vastness of space frightens Earth-boys, and they don't get the same pleasure as we do out of skimming along in a space craft and perhaps waiting on the space lanes for a big ship to go past so that it rocks us and tosses us about on its spume-wake. Earth-boys live constantly in gravity, but except for our gravitational exercises each day to keep our muscles supple we can't fall over and bounce around like they do. So being tossed about on spume-waves or having races in our space scooters doesn't have the same appeal to them.'

	'But you're happy?'

	'Of course we are,' Kemlo declared confidently. 'Although we know that in many ways we're different. Earth-boys can come here wearing a space suit and visit us, but we can't visit Earth— at least, not yet.'

	'You mean that scientists are still working on a suit which will enable you to live properly on Earth?'

	'Yes, but I don't think they've succeeded very far yet. That's what makes us feel different and why I asked you the question.'

	'I shouldn't think too much of it, Kemlo,' said Calvin Lester seriously, putting his arm around the boy's broad shoulders. 'You have plenty of history lessons at school, don't you?'

	'We do,' Kemlo chuckled. 'Too many sometimes.'

	'Then you'll know that centuries ago—probably dozens of centuries ago—people lived on Earth in very different conditions and circumstances from those in which we live now. Expectation of life now is about one hundred and twenty years, yet not so very many centuries ago men died when they were not much more than forty or fifty; at least, that was the common age for dying. Centuries before that men lived in even worse conditions according to our ideas of life. And that's where you have the problem which bothers you, I think, Kemlo.

	'You don't want to be different from Earth-boys yet you know you must be. You were born into and belong to the space generation, just the same as a long time ago boys were born into what they called the Jet Age, when it was quite common for them to sit in a plane and go hurtling across the sky above the Earth faster than sound. But since those days we have developed this new world and it is your world. The scientists will find a way of making an Earth suit the same as they have found a way of making us a space suit, and then you will be able to visit Earth and see it all for yourselves. It's a far more crowded, noisy and restless life than you have up here. But you'll be greatly admired. Not many Earth-boys have the physique that you and your friends have.'

	'You mean our very broad shoulders and deep chests?'

	'A natural development of being born in space,' Calvin Lester replied. 'Centuries ago, scientists said that the existence of human life in space was not possible, but they were not able, even by the most modern instruments of their time, to record what would happen if a human was actually born in space. Old habits and beliefs die hard, Kemlo. Scientists always accepted that space was nothing and therefore Man could not live in it without the protection of Earth-made devices.'

	'But that's true.'

	'Yes, it's true as far as Earth-born people are concerned; but in this great Universe wherein the distant worlds are linked by the vastnesses of space there does exist something which gives you who are born to it a natural life, yet to an Earth-born person brings death.'

	'Oxygen, of course,' said Kemlo. 'We can't take too much oxygen.'

	'Not only oxygen.' Calvin Lester laughed softly as he added: 'Let's not start quoting all the long words and medical terms loved by the experts. There are some things we ordinary chaps have to accept, and the most obvious of these is that here you are—standing beside me in space, breathing naturally, looking strong and healthy and immune to solar penetration. But if I were to shut off my oxygen and diathene and remove my helmet I should die.'

	'And if I were to fly down to Earth right now I'd die, too,' said Kemlo. Then he glanced at the man with a slightly embarrassed look as he asked: 'Do you think I'm stuffy, Cal?'

	'Stuffy! Of course you're not stuffy. What a silly question!' 

	'Not so silly. We have to learn a lot more than Earth-boys do. We have to learn all about Earth and its history, and how life is lived every day, for you down there, and on top of that we have to learn many more technical details because of our life here. Sometimes when Earth-boys visit us they find us stuffy because, although we like lots of fun, we seem a lot more serious to them.' He sighed gustily as he added: 'I suppose it's all part of our new world.'

	'You want to forget any ideas that you're stuffy, young fella-me-lad. You're bound to be a little different in the way you think and talk because you study more intensely up here and you deal in more technical things, but that's part of your life. If you were stuffy you wouldn't have been chosen to help us on the space lanes—you take that from me.'

	'You really think so?' Kemlo asked anxiously.

	'The proof of it is that you've been chosen,' was the reply. 'And I suppose if an Earth-boy overheard us talking right now he'd think both of us were stuffy. But that's because there're so many fascinating things mixed up in your everyday life and mine which both of us want to know more about. And anybody who wants to laugh at us or call us stuffy can do it, but they'd be wrong and we know it.' Calvin Lester changed the subject abruptly. 'Who's going to be your assistant on this job, Kemlo?'

	'Kerowski, I expect. He was mad that he couldn't come now.'

	'Why?'

	'Kerowski doesn't like to miss anything and he's got lots of admiration for you charter pilots. So have I,' Kemlo added quickly. 'I think yours is the most dangerous job of all.'

	'I wouldn't say that,' Calvin protested, but obviously pleased at this compliment. 'Charting the space lanes for the ordinary route ships is a trifle hazardous, but this sort of job is easy—I hope!' He grinned at Kemlo.

	'There's always the uncertainty, isn't there?' Kemlo said with a tone of understanding. 

	'Have you ever seen a blueprint of space?' Calvin asked. 

	'I saw a copy of the prints you've been working from.' 

	'Then you'll know what I mean when I say it's a crazy sort of business. Let's go across to the charter craft and I'll show you what I mean.'

	When they reached the craft, Calvin Lester set the power-operated mechanism working by pressing an external switch and the sleek, flat cowling of the craft slid back in two sections. Each section folded into the side panels, leaving the wide low control section open. They climbed into the compartment and sat for a few moments while the pilot answered Kemlo's questions about the seemingly complicated control-panel.

	This panel which faced them contained more instruments, dials, levers and switches than Kemlo had seen in so small a craft. Above the panel were long screens now dark, but at the flick of a switch Calvin Lester flooded the centre oblong screen with light and, adjusting a dial close to it, brought a blueprint into focus.

	'There's your charted course from Earth to a ring of Satellite Belts, starting with the major Belt K which is your home, Kemlo —then comes S and M, T and O. Up to the ring of the Satellite Belts the space lanes are well charted.' He pointed with a gloved forefinger to other lines and sets of figures across the deep blue of the screen. 'Beyond the junction of the space lanes covering all the Satellite Belts ringing Earth are the charted lanes along which research ships travel on to the Moon and Mars, Saturn and Jupiter areas. These small dotted trajectories lead to the lesser-known planets over which brief surveys have been made.'

	'Seems a shocking waste of time to chart space lanes to those other planets when we've not even reached there yet,' said Kemlo with a laugh.

	'Nothing's a waste of time, young fella,' Calvin corrected him seriously. 'A century ago, people on Earth said it was a waste of time to send up rockets to a height of a thousand miles to chart the way for the cargo ships and passenger craft which ultimately would build your Satellite Belts in the sky. Nothing is a waste of time, Kemlo. And it all has to be done methodically. Across this vast arena of space'—Calvin's hand waved in an all-embracing gesture over the screen—'we have to conform to scientific observation and a strict charting of courses for any space craft, whether they be research ships fitted only with instruments or manned by crews. You just can't have propelled objects hurtling across space in any direction. Their course has to be plotted from the start to the finish so that contact can be maintained with them for the whole period of the flight.' He tapped the screen gently with his finger as he asked: 'What in your opinion is the site for the new Belt, Kemlo?'

	'About a thousand leenas to the left of us and some forty degrees angle between S and M Belts.'

	'Near enough, considering we're dealing with thousands of miles, and a leena is a space term, but you can't see any flight lanes or, as we mostly call them, space lanes charted beyond your Belt?'

	'No, not yet. But that's because you've not reached so far.'

	'Oh yes, I have,' said Calvin quietly. 'That's why I wanted to show you this. And when I've shown it you we'll close up and you can take the craft on a trial run.' His deft fingers moved over the control switches at an oblong box-like section of the control-panel. When these were set to his requirements Calvin Lester began tapping a small depression key. 'Now watch,' he said.

	And as Kemlo watched, so a series of white dotted lines punctuated every inch or so by figures accompanied by a lettered symbol spread slowly across the blueprint mirrored in the screen. These followed a curving course then branched out into two parallel lines like curving railway tracks across a blue land.

	'Why the curve?' he asked as Calvin finished his charting.

	'Because that's a known path of astral storms, and for some reason a passage centre for meteorites,' was the explanation.

	'You're going to bring the cargo ships up on the same route as to K and S Belts?'

	'That's the route we shall use. Have you got a better suggestion?'

	'No,' Kemlo replied thoughtfully and hesitantly. 'It depends where you're taking off from on Earth.'

	'The Bohana desert, of course. And that will bring us on the right trajectory to come between K and S.'

	'Why not use Woomera? That's on the opposite side of the world to the Bohana desert, and you wouldn't need to make such a deep curve in your flight.'

	Calvin Lester leaned back in the pilot's seat and stared steadily at the boy for a few moments; in fact so long that Kemlo began to feel uncomfortable.

	'Did I say something wrong?' he asked at last.

	'Not a thing,' said Calvin. 'You've just made a very simple but profound statement. And it needs thinking about. The point is — will it be easier to ship out the cargo from Woomera seeing that most of it is being assembled at Bohana right now? That means a long haul in our Earth-terms.'

	'How many ships will you have coming up?'

	'About fifty,' was the nonchalant reply. 'Most of those are being based at Bohana. I think you've got something there—if we can iron out that curve we'd save fuel and time.'

	'You'll iron out the curve right enough, but you'll run smack across the Mars ghost run,' said Kemlo after a pause. 'And you haven't even got that charted.'

	Calvin Lester jerked upward in his seat, staring at Kemlo in surprise.

CHAPTER 2
The Ghost Run

	'Now what exactly are you talking about?' the charter pilot demanded.

	'The Mars ghost run,' Kemlo replied in a surprised voice. 'I thought everyone knew about the ghost run.'

	' "Everyone" doesn't include the International Commission, the Space Research Committee, all the scientists and other dome-heads—and, of course, your humble and ignorant servant,' said Calvin Lester with heavy sarcasm.

	'Oh, it's not official,' said Kemlo airily. 'But because a thing isn't official doesn't mean it's not there.'

	Calvin Lester patted Kemlo's head with a derisive gesture.

	'You fascinate me,' he said, still in sarcastic mood. 'Who else beside yourself believes in this ghost run—I mean, apart from your friends?'

	'Well—	' Kemlo began hesitantly. 'I've reported it once, and so did Kerowski, but—'

	'But what?' Calvin insisted.

	Kemlo grinned sheepishly. 'But no one believed us,' he admitted frankly.

	Calvin Lester drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, making a hissing noise through his helmet speaker.

	'Kemlo, my clever Captain of Space Scouts,' he said, speaking very carefully and clearly, 'will you answer a few simple questions?'

	Kemlo nodded eagerly. 'If I can.'

	'They will be well within your power to answer. Firstly—who am I?'

	'Who are you?' Kemlo repeated in surprise. 'You're Calvin Lester, chief charter pilot of the space lanes, attached to Satellite Belt K for the duration of the project of building the new Satellite.'

	'Good. And why am I here with you?'

	'Because as Captain of Space Scouts on Satellite K I've been chosen to assist in patrolling the space lanes which will carry the cargo and assembly-crew ships from Earth. You're to teach me how to handle this new type charter craft.'

	'Excellent. And how many charter pilots do I have under me?'

	'At least twelve, and four of those are teaching senior boys from Satellites S, M, T and O how to handle this type of craft.'

	'You're doing fine. Now tell me how many years this new Satellite has taken to build in prefabricated sections down on Earth?'

	'I don't know for sure—about fifteen, I think.'

	'Correct. And how many science engineering experts have taken part in all the preparations?'

	'Hundreds, I should say,' Kemlo chuckled.

	'Would you say that they were the finest brains in every section of science and space knowledge?'

	'Yes, naturally.'

	Calvin Lester sighed and leaned back in his seat.

	'Naturally, he says. Naturally!'

	'What's wrong with that?' Kemlo asked sharply.

	'Nothing—nothing at all.' Calvin lifted his gloved hands and shrugged. 'You have a good knowledge of the main facts behind this tremendous project and quite rightly you say it is natural that the best brains would have been employed for years to make it possible. But my fine and funny Space Scout—do you think any tiny point has been overlooked? Do you think if there was any truth in your so-called "ghost run", the experts would not have recorded it and instructed me accordingly before they sent me up to chart the space lanes?'

	Kemlo was silent for a long time before he nodded slowly.

	'I suppose ihey would,' he admitted miserably as he realised how Calvin's little game of question and answer had tricked him. 'I suppose it's just another of those things we space-boys believe in, like—like—' he hesitated, groping for the right word.

	'Like a superstition?' Calvin suggested in a more kindly voice. 'AH good space-men have superstitions. But you've got to keep to fact, Kemlo, or else an Earth-man can go space-crazy.'

	'You suggest I'm space-crazy and I'll poke you in the snoot!' said Kemlo with a sudden and, for him, unusual surge of anger.

	Calvin Lester laughed heartily.

	'That's better!' he exclaimed. 'And if it were possible for me to strip off this space suit in your games-room you could try and do just that.' He gripped Kemlo's shoulder firmly in a sort of encouraging gesture. 'I didn't really mean to sneer at you or .suggest that you were space-crazy,' he said. 'After all, you're living in your own world. I'm just an interloper compared with you space-boys; a theory man, even though I have got a total of some six thousand space hours on my record. But all space pilots are pretty highly-strung men.'

	'You mean they're nervous?'

	'We're all nervous at one time or another, I suppose,' Calvin Lester admitted, 'but space pilots have to be very fit men. In addition to physical fitness they have to be expert technicians, and their training is more intensive than a professor's. They have to know a great deal about so many things whereas a professor of science engineering or space development mostly specialises in one subject. There's a great shortage of first-class space pilots on Earth because the conditions arc so tough for them, and there'll always be a shortage, unless ...'

	'Unless you could use space-born boys and train them,' Kemlo suggested quietly.

	'That's just what is in the minds of the International Space (Commission. That is why scientists hope to evolve some Earth suit for you to wear which will give you the same conditions in reverse.' Calvin Lester chuckled as he added: 'Sounds cockeyed, doesn't it? For centuries men on Earth have been devising the perfect suit for a man to wear in space, and now they're faced with the problem of finding a suit to cover someone who was born in space so that a visit to Earth doesn't kill him. That's a crazy thing if you like. And talking of craziness, what I really meant by being space-crazy was that pilots often arc subjected to very great strain. Having to remember so many details, helped of course by every instrument which can be devised for their aid, they sometimes develop a sort of hypersensitiveness and get to imagining that one thing or another is bad luck for them.'

	'Everyone gets that sort of notion, I guess.'

	Calvin nodded. 'It's a human weakness, but if a pilot has too many of them he has to be grounded before he cracks up a ship because of some pet superstition. You see, old son, there's a lot we don't know about space despite the fact that our knowledge today makes that of the pioneers look like kindergarten school lessons.

	'We've developed right enough and we've more instruments that are foolproof than anyone thought possible to invent at one time. But there's always the human element; always the chance that an instrument might be wrong because it's been devised by a human brain which, after all, has certain limitations. That's why I'm making such an argument about your "Mars ghost run". It was just possible that all the checking and cross-checking by our scientists and their instruments could have overlooked something which you and your friends had learned at first-hand. But if no official notice was taken of your report, then I'm afraid I've got to peg it down to its being just a superstition among you boys.'

	'I suppose it's no use my telling you what happened to us?'

	'Well, now let's be honest, shall we?' Calvin Lester swivelled in the seat so that he faced Kemlo, who could see the charter pilot smiling behind the darkened vizor. 'We've spent some time discussing it because in this new world of space it's a wise man who discusses everything, no matter how small it might seem.' He pointed to the lighted frame upon which he had plotted the proposed course of the space lanes.

	'My job is to draw lines on nothing. Not even the explorers on Earth centuries ago had my sort of job when they charted the oceans. They did have some substance on which to make their maps. I suppose to them those great expanses of water seemed as vast as any area of space might seem to us, but at least they knew that it would end in a few hundred or a few thousand miles. They charted their courses over the water for their ships to follow from one country to another. They made canals so that ships could avoid unnecessarily long journeys. Later, when Man took to the air above Earth, it was comparatively simple to chart a route over the lands and the oceans. After he had allowed for weather and points of call en route, he had a simple proposition compared with ours. We come from Earth and climb into the sky, but except for the man-made Satellite Belts which circle the Earth just over a thousand miles above it there is literally nothing for millions of miles.'

	'But in charting space lanes you're only following the same sort of rules that those men followed when they charted the seas on Earth centuries ago,' Kemlo pointed out.

	'Basically, I suppose you're right,' Calvin agreed. 'They had to contend with tides and currents, wind directions, course of hurricanes and typhoons, storm areas and several other things, but these were all factual—these were things which could be seen and felt. What have you got in space, Kemlo?'

	Kemlo laughed softly. 'Have you ever been in an astral storm?' he asked.

	'No, I never have, thank goodness,' the charter pilot replied seriously. 'I know you have, though, and from what I hear you were lucky to come out of it alive.'

	'Anyone who comes out of an astral storm alive is lucky, so they say,' Kemlo replied. 'Instruments give warnings of astral storms. They give warnings of meteors or the presence of numbers of large cosmic particles, but they never give it quickly enough to help you very much.'

	'We might find an instrument that could move faster than the human brain in that respect,' Calvin replied. 'All that instruments can do at present is to warn you when something is approaching which might kill you, but by the time you've noticed the warning, the danger has either killed you or gone past you. And if it weren't for the holding rays, I don't suppose space dwelling and travel would have developed as far as it has. But all those things are facts which we have records of and, to a certain degree, we can protect ourselves against them. But until they become fact, such as an astral storm or cosmic disturbance, we can't devise any protection. That's why it's dangerous to voice some superstition like this Mars ghost run.' Calvin leaned forward in the seat and tapped the lighted frame. 'Now let's see if we can't straighten that curve a little more.' He glanced across to where Kemlo's scooter lay glistening in the solar light. 'We're in a coasting zone, so what do you say if we leave your scooter here and take off for this area I've just charted?'

	'Suits me fine,' Kemlo agreed eagerly. 'Can I handle the craft?'

	'Sure you can. Let's change seats.'

	After Kemlo was settled in the control seat of the charter craft Calvin Lester manipulated the controls which closed the canopy of the shell around them, then began to explain the functioning of the banks of instruments which faced Kemlo on the wide control-panel.

	The controls of the charter craft were even more simple than those of Kemlo's space scooter, but there the difference merely started, for the new power unit developed such a high degree of thrust and the holding rays around the craft set up such a strong force of local gravity that Kemlo felt as if he were being pushed straight through the control seat when he set the craft in motion.

	'Hold it, son!' Calvin called. 'Ease back on the induction. She's a sight more sensitive than you think.'

	'She certainly is,' said Kemlo fervently. 'Jumping meteorites! What power!'

	'Forget your surprise,' said Calvin sharply. 'Just concentrate on handling the craft. You're an experienced space-craft pilot and I'm treating you as such. Set your gyroscopes to the reading on the master balance meter.'

	Kemlo reacted to the sharply worded instructions with commendable calmness, and realised now that the friendly chatty period of his association with the charter pilot was past. He was now the pupil and Calvin Lester the instructor. Easing back the induction lever he set the gyroscopes as instructed.

	'Now open your audovisor circuit so that the Belt Control can pick up our flight on their radar screens.'

	When Kemlo had carried out this instruction, Calvin said: 'Take a reading from the space lane chart. What do you make it?' he asked after Kemlo had studied the screen for a moment.

	'Directional beam twenty-six above eighty,' Kemlo replied confidently.

	'Good reckoning, son.' Calvin's voice lost a little of its clipped authoritative tone. 'Set your dials accordingly.'

	When this was done there came more instructions.

	'Feed the navigational beam into the open circuit. Set the electronic impulse finder to maximum. Trim the side relief valve to balance with the forward thrust meter, then reset the gyroscopes readings.'

	There were a few more instructions to finish off the complicated link-ups through the series of instruments. Then at last Calvin Lester said:

	'Set the automatic control, open induction and let her go.' He leaned back in the seat relaxed by the side of Kemlo, who, switching over to automatic control, opened the induction very slowly as he watched the flickering lights and swinging needles on the dials and instruments facing him on the control-panel. The craft zoomed across the blue void with a terrific surge of power, hitting smoothly into its cruising speed of ten thousand Earth miles an hour. Kemlo sat back in the control seat and grinned at Calvin Lester, who nodded and smiled in reply.

	'You'll do,' said the charter pilot. 'At least you can concentrate well and you've a natural grasp of instrument reading. Some of your actions were a trifle jerky, and when lining up two instruments you have a tendency to hurry things too much. Always wait for your basic instrument to settle to the proper reading before you adjust a line-up—understand?'

	'I understand,' said Kemlo. 'She's certainly a super craft. Makes my space scooter seem like a toy.'

	Well, this charter craft is built for real work. It's not fair to make comparisons with a small space craft designed purely for pleasure. It's still a pretty wonderful little machine, though. A lot of boys on Earth would give their ears to handle one of your space scooters. Now let's take a look at this charting.' He leaned forward in his seat watching the radar screen and glancing every now and then at the small purple dot in the centre of the audovisor screen.

	Across the blue expanse of the space lane chart was creeping a series of long dots which marked the course of the charter craft as it cleaved through the void following on the course of those lanes which Calvin Lester had so carefully charted.

	Keep a close check on that electronic impulse meter,' said Calvin warningly, and added with a chuckle: 'We'll be getting fairly close to your famous ghost run. Might as well see if the instruments pick up anything.'

	'They can't pick up a superstition, can they?' Kemlo asked, unable to refrain from having a dig at Calvin's previous remarks.

	The charter pilot took it very well and laughed softly. 'The day a scientist invents a machine to pick up a superstition I'd say we'd reached the zenith of Man's inventiveness.' He leaned forward and pulled a pair of infra-red binoculars from their clip and motioned for Kemlo to do the same. 'All this strikes me as silly,' he observed. 'Except when you know there's another ship within seeable distance the infra-red binoculars don't show any more than a close-up of nothing.'

	'But the instructions say that a survey should be made with them, so I suppose we'd better do it.' Kemlo set the binoculars to his eyes and peered through the transparent canopy above their heads. He remained silent for a few minutes, then slowly lowering them from his eyes he turned to look at Calvin Lester. The charter pilot was holding his binoculars firmly to his eyes and (razing in the same direction as Kemlo had been following.

	Slowly he lowered them, raised them again, lowered them and glanced at Kemlo.

	'My liver must be out of order,' he said. 'Is that impulse meter showing anything?'

	'Not a thing,' said Kemlo quietly. 'I wondered if you saw the same as I did.'

	'You saw it too?'

	'I did. It's like a spectrum across the void. A jagged line of many colours. I don't think it's your liver that's out of order, Cal.'

	'Then what is it?'

	'I don't know,' Kemlo spoke in a clipped tone, 'but if you'll glance at the instrument you'll see we're running parallel to what I call the Mars ghost run!'

CHAPTER 3
The Fiery Spectrum

	'Coincidence,' Calvin Lester snapped. 'Just coincidence. There was nothing out there.' He stabbed a finger toward the control-panel. 'One instrument could be faulty, but not all of them. It's an optical illusion of some sort.'

	'What sort?' Kemlo wanted to know.

	'You can't see it without the glasses, can you?'

	Kemlo peered through the canopy and shook his head. 'No,' he agreed.

	'Then it's not there. It's just that the infra-red glasses play some sort of a trick on your eyes.' 

	'Then why did we both see it?'

	'Oh, goodness! I don't know,' Calvin replied crossly, but he quickly apologised. 'Sorry, son,' he said in a quieter tone. 'No sense in getting snappy about it. Let's take another look and compare notes, and see if it looks the same to both of us.'

	They were silent for a long time, both focusing the infra-red binoculars with great care.

	The charter craft was hissing through the seemingly endless void at around ten thousand, but still Kemlo could see that broad zigzagging line of varied colours curving away on the offside of the craft. If its presence had not been so uncanny and apparently unexplainable, the sight of it would have stirred him into making a remark about the beauty of the colouring. But as it was, the flowing, almost fiery zigzagging spectrum had an extremely ominous appearance.

	'It's no optical illusion.' Calvin Lester's voice came so quietly through the helmet speaker that Kemlo did not catch all the words, for it seemed that the pilot was talking to himself.

	'I didn't hear you properly, Cal,' said Kemlo, lowering the binoculars and glancing toward the charter pilot. 'I can see it clearly through the glasses but not without them. Can you?'

	Calvin Lester nodded slowly, but he still kept the binoculars close to his eyes, or rather to the curved hollows of his space suit helmet which for this very purpose were shaped in front of his eyes. At last he lowered them, leaned forward, manipulated switches on the control-panel. In a second the audovisor screen flickered to life and the head and shoulders of a technician were clearly visible.

	'Satellite K Control answering charter craft,' said the technician, smiling slightly as he added: 'Hi there, Cal! Something you want?'

	'Hello, Jeff,' the pilot replied. 'Yes, I think there'll be several things I want, but first of all, will you check your instruments with ours and prove our readings?'

	'Surely,' said Jeff agreeably. 'Be good practice for Kemlo to check them with me.'

	'All right.' Calvin nodded to Kemlo. 'Go ahead, son.'

	The proving of the readings took a little longer than had Calvin Lester carried it through, but Kemlo, after a stuttering start and one rather foolish mistake, finally proved all the readings correct.

	'Are you satisfied?' Jeff asked. 'Is your craft giving trouble?'

	'No, the craft's handling well and I didn't really suspect the instruments,' Calvin replied, with an attempt at nonchalance, 'but I'm taking Kemlo over the route and he's handling the craft so I wanted to make sure of everything.'

	'What else do you want?'

	'I've got a silly question, but be patient with me, Jell; I'm only trying out a theory. Our electronic impulse meter shows normal. Do you have any reading on yours?'

	The technician's eyes glanced away from the screen, obviously looking down at an instrument-panel near him In the control-room from where he was speaking. When he glanced up again he shook his head as he replied:

	'No, everything is normal.'

	'Can you give me an area sweep check?'

	'You're covering a pretty wide sweep yourself, but If you want it I'll get one to twenty thousand leenas semi-clrclc in front of your craft.'

	'I think we'll drop back,' said Calvin. 'That will give you more scope.' He tapped Kemlo's shoulder, 'Close down your induction, son,' he ordered. 'Release back pressure to thirty degrees.'

	While Kemlo was carrying out these instructions, Calvin Lester was listening to the technician as he read out the figures from his instruments which showed the result of the area sweep by electronic impulse. This system of sweeping large areas of the blue void had not long been made effective. It was more sensitive and far-reaching than radar and when necessary a whole battery of space ship ray guns could be linked to the impulses which would align the guns and fire them directly on to the target picked up by the electronic impulses. These could also show a ship in flight or turn it off its course away from dangerous obstructions; but so far this use was not common because there remained the very real and human risk of blowing up another space ship which might, for some reason, be off-course.

	The charter craft was moving gently along in slow side-slipping actions, but unless he looked through the canopy at the hull Kemlo would not have known this side-slipping was occurring, for the gyroscopes held the interior of the craft at a constant level so that no matter what the hull angle might be, the occupants were unaffected by it.

	While Calvin was conversing with Jeff, Kemlo surveyed the apparently empty area from the offside of the craft. He could see nothing at all but the deep infinite blue of space—yet immediately he looked through the binoculars he saw the fiery spectrum zigzagging away until ... He sat up suddenly for the line of the spectrum was changing; the very noticeable zigzag pattern straightening and bending away in a long hooking curve. He lowered the binoculars, turned and was about to speak when Calvin said quickly:

	'Thanks a lot, Jeff. Seems like the whole area is clear. Sorry to have troubled you. So long.'

	'So long, Cal.' Jeff's voice sounded surprised, but he accepted his dismissal and Calvin swiftly broke the contact. The screen went dark as he leaned back in his seat.

	'I didn't want Jeff to hear what you might say,' he explained. 'Have you noticed something different?'

	'Take a look through your binoculars,' said Kemlo.

	'It's there right enough.' Calvin spoke in a puzzled voice after he had surveyed the scene for a few moments. 'It's there, yet it isn't there.'

	'Didn't you want Control to know about it?'

	'Know about what?' said Calvin in an angry tone. 'None of their instruments pick it up, nor do any of ours, either. Only the binoculars allow you to see it. Have you seen it before?'

	'No, I've never seen anything—perhaps because I never thought of using the glasses. You won't laugh at me or get mad, will you, Cal?' Kemlo asked in a hesitant manner.

	'You're going to mention that blooming Mars ghost run again, I suppose?'

	'Well, it is just about the place,' Kemlo insisted, and pointed to the chart in its lighted screen on the control-panel facing them. 'You see where the Mars space lane curves away to the right the other side of that spectrum-like thing we can see through the glasses?'

	'How do we know whether it curves away to the right or not? I'll admit that it's near the Mars space lane, and I'll admit also that we can't measure distance with our eyes—not in space, anyway. It's got to be done by instruments, and those instruments are not recording that zigzag spectrum which is curving away now and straightening out. Is that what you wanted to tell me just now?'

	'Yes, and I know we're taught to be very careful in trying to assess distances in space; but honestly, Cal, I'm sure we're practically dead on to what we call the "ghost run".'

	'All right,' said the pilot in a resigned voice. 'Just tell me exactly what happens on this so-called ghost run. I gather you found it while out in your space scooters either going to or coming back from having some fun on the spume-wake near the Mars space lane. Right?'

	Kemlo nodded. 'It's going to sound silly and that's how it sounded when we reported it. We were tooling along quite smoothly in our scooters when suddenly they changed course as if there was a terrific gravity pull or some magnetic force drawing us.' He glanced up to see if Calvin was laughing at him, but the pilot nodded his head slowly as he said:

	'All right, go on. What happened next?'

	'The hull of my scooter tilted upward and sort of bounced away to its right. It flew perfectly for a time, then bounced again. Then suddenly it flew quite steadily and we had no more trouble. The other scooters had the same experience'

	'How many times has this happened?'

	'Three or four,' Kemlo replied thoughtfully. 'No—wait a minute. Only three times.'

	'And you reported it?'

	'Yes, we all reported it, but none of the instruments registered any obstruction and the chief technical officer'—Kemlo smiled a little at the thought as he added—'who happens to be my father, which made it a bit awkward for me—well, he sent out a research crew and they spent hours checking with instruments for thousands of miles around.'

	'And they didn't find a thing.'

	'They didn't find anything, but they admitted that they were bumped about once or twice and they couldn't find any reason for it.'

	'But this experience wasn't enough for them to agree that there was an unidentified obstruction?'

	'No. Dad said it could have been one or two very rare space phenomena of a non-dangerous type. And he only told me that when we were alone and talking as a family. Officially, he wouldn't admit anything at all.'

	'He's like all technical officers,' said Calvin. 'They hold their jobs because of their knowledge and skill and cool reasoning powers. You can't admit what you can't prove. Were the hulls of your scooters affected?'

	'Well, I claimed that I'd got a dent on the underside of mine,' said Kemlo in a resentful voice, 'but Sam, who is in charge of our scooter repair shop, said I'd bumped it when I came in the entry chute. I know I didn't, but there it is—there was a big hollow dent in the hull and I know I didn't do it.'

	'I think we'll try an experiment,' Calvin suggested after a thoughtful pause. 'Perhaps I shouldn't do it with you aboard, but as they took no notice of you when you reported having bumped into something you couldn't see, we'll do this together and we can each be witness for the other.'

	'I'm game,' said Kemlo eagerly. 'What do we do?'

	'Set the induction lever at quarter power, then throw the neutraliser switch to allow you to go off-beam for just a few minutes. Ease the craft toward that spectrum line; you'll have to keep the binoculars to your eyes while you do it. Think you can manage?'

	'Yes,' Kemlo said, and promptly proceeded to prove it. 'Easy now, easy,' said Calvin, who was peering through his binoculars. 'We're getting close on to that spectrum line toward the end of the zigzag. Feather the stabiliser control a little, Kemlo, so that we get a side-slipping action. A little more; a little more yet. That's it!'

	As Calvin spoke those last words they saw the hull of the craft lift up in a bouncing, rocking action although they did not feel any movement owing to the gyroscopic control.

	Calvin lowered the binoculars and glanced swiftly at the banks of instruments.

	'Not a thing!' he exclaimed. 'Only the hull angle meter shows anything out of the ordinary.' He raised the binoculars to his eyes again and in a moment ordered curtly: 'Cut the feathering, trim stabilisers, open up to half induction.'

	Kemlo followed these instructions quickly and surely, and in a second or two the craft zoomed forward; the hull rising and dipping, tossing and bouncing as if it were riding the crest of dozens of waves.

	'Power thrust right,' Calvin ordered, and after a moment, Kemlo stamped on the pedal control. The craft swung round to the left and immediately the hull settled into smooth flight.

	'Power Thrust right,' Calvin ordered, and after a moment he added: 'Centralise thrust—cut induction.'

	When the craft had slowed and was floating lazily along in the blue endless void he lowered his binoculars and gazed at Kemlo.

	'I'm going to apologise right here and now, son,' he said quietly. 'Without these binoculars it would be a ghost run right enough for anybody who hit it. But what puzzles me is, why didn't the research crew sent out by your father find what we've found?'

	'Apart from them, why hasn't anyone found it before now?' Kemlo asked in a puzzled voice.

	'For one thing, it's well between the charted space lanes, and no craft flies outside its charted lane.' Calvin paused, then added: 'Except you boys in your space scooters.'

	Kemlo leaned forward to look again at the chart.

	'Why is there such a big gap between the space lanes?' he asked.

	'Because for years that whole area had been designated as the point for establishing a new Satellite Belt,' the pilot explained. 'My job of charting the space lanes for the cargo and crew ships was meant to be fairly simple. According to the chart, we're well inside the Mars lane which is the same lane used for Deimos and Phobos, and away to the left here is the orbit lane. No, Kemlo, there just is not anything near this area. It's what the International Commission call an allocated space zone uncharted. In other words, the whole area is charted around it and an international agreement made for a supplementary allocation of space to one zone or another.' He took up the binoculars and again peered through them before he said in a firm voice :

	'Well, we'll try something else. And if we get into trouble, you'd better leave me to find the excuses.'

	'What are we going to do, Cal?'

	'We have a very effective battery of ray guns in the hull of this craft.' Calvin pointed to the row of firing buttons above the control-panel. 'We'll send off a few charges in the opposite direction from that spectrum line. You'd better close the open circuit for a time because when Control's instruments pick up our gunfire, Jeff will be asking awkward questions.'

	'How will you explain firing the guns?'

	'That I'm showing you how they can be fired,' Calvin replied with a grin. 'That won't really be a lie, anyway. We set the master-switch like this.' He leaned forward and manipulated the switch by the side of the firing buttons. 'We open the firing tubes.' He moved another switch. 'We now position the craft, then all we have to do is to press the buttons and the guns fire.' He picked up the binoculars, then gave some directional orders. 'Swing the hull forty degrees left, Kemlo. Steady now. Hold her there.' He lowered the binoculars. 'Is the circuit closed?'

	'Yes, everything's ready,' Kemlo replied. 'Can I fire them?'

	'Go ahead. For one salvo from centre charge, press number three button. Ready? Fire!'

	Kemlo pressed number three button—one short stab. With a faint sibilant hiss, four brilliant rods of white light seared from the hull of the charter craft and flashed into the blue void ahead of them; growing tiny in the distance until in a few seconds they had disappeared.

	'No obstruction, no deviation, no magnetic pull—just nothing,' Calvin observed quietly. 'The charges will expend themselves in space. Now let's turn the nose of the craft toward that spectrum.'

	Kemlo began manoeuvring the craft while Calvin watched through the binoculars. When it was positioned he said: 'We'd both better use glasses. I'll press the firing button. Ready, son?'

	'Ready,' said Kemlo, grimly aware that this could be a dangerous test.

	Another stab of the button and streaks of white light hissed from the gun nozzles. These seared across the front of the craft and through the binoculars they appeared red and glowing, whereas to the naked eye they seemed white—which was merely an illusion of heat in space.

	Four rays hit a curve in the spectrum ahead of them, and at once the sky seemed to explode in a vast fountain of myriad fiery colours.

	The colours grew more intense, more glowing, with red dominating the others. The curving line of the spectrum appeared to bulge slightly before it settled again.

	Kemlo gazed open-mouthed at this fantastic spectacle, but he became even more amazed, for where there had been light and colour etched in fabulous patterns against the deep blue backdrop of the void, suddenly there was nothing but that eternal blue. No explosion of colours, no spectrum, no zigzagging line which straightened and curved into space beyond them.

	He lowered the binoculars slowly and, turning to face the pilot, saw that Calvin's face behind the darkened vizor of his helmet was showing much of the same bewilderment as Kemlo felt.

	'Get her moving,' Calvin snapped abruptly. 'Full power. Keep straight ahead.'

	'We'll hit that obstruction again,' said Kemlo tensely.

	'How can we? It's gone.'

	And in the next few seconds his words and their own unbelieving sight were proved correct.

	The charter craft zoomed over the area where a few seconds ago had existed a vision of dazzling colour—a spectrum speared across the void which had bounced their craft like a cockle shell and against which the searing rays had exploded into fantastic light.

	After some moments of thoughtful stillness, Calvin leaned forward, switched off the firing button circuit and motioned to Kemlo to make contact again with Control.

	Almost at once Jeff's head and shoulders appeared in the audovisor screen.

	'What's going on out there, Cal?' he demanded. 'The Duty Officer wants to know why you're firing guns.'

	'I bet he does,' Calvin replied grimly. 'Tell him that I was showing Kemlo how the gun mechanism works.'

	'He won't like that, but I'll tell him. Boys aren't supposed to work the guns—you know that.'

	'I thought I knew a lot of things,' said Calvin. 'Tell the Duty Officer I'll be making a personal report when we get back.'

	'I'll tell him,' Jeff promised. 'Have you about finished your tuition? I'm off duty in an hour—remember you promised me a return match at table tennis this evening.'

	'I'll be back soon. We're turning now to pick up Kemlo's scooter. Notify intake Control that we're coming in, will you, Jeff?'

	'I will. You sound a bit puzzled, Cal. You found something you don't understand out there?'

	'Right now I've lost a spectrum,' the pilot replied humorously, 'and I don't know where it's gone.'

	Jeff's face goggled at them from the audovisor screen.

	'You crazy?' he inquired politely.

	'I don't think so,' Calvin replied. 'But I might be. So long, Jeff.' He moved back and nodded to Kemlo to break contact.

	When the charter craft had turned and headed buck toward Kemlo's space scooter, Calvin said: 'It did happen, didn't it, son? I mean, we both saw it through the glasses and we felt the bumps?'

	'We certainly did,' Kemlo agreed emphatically.

	Calvin sighed gently. 'I bet they'll call me space crazy,' he observed. 'The same as I hinted that you might be. I don't get it, Kemlo—I don't get it at all. Either something it there or it isn't. Will you keep very quiet about this? Not even mention it to your father until I've had a chance to make a full upon and have discussions with him and other technical officers?'

	'Of course I will,' said Kemlo; then he added with a smile: 'On condition.'

	'Oh! What condition?'

	'That you make sure I don't miss any of the fun. I mean, that you won't let them take me off the charter craft job just because of this.'

	Calvin held out his gloved hand which Kemlo shook vigorously.

	'That's a deal,' said the pilot firmly. 'I'll make sure that you don't miss any fun. Could turn out not to be funny, though.'

CHAPTER 4
Search Without Answer

	Kemlo parted from Calvin Lester when they reached the space scooter. The charter pilot would take his craft to the anchorage below Satellite Belt K while Kemlo would enter the Belt in his scooter. Being an Earth-man, Calvin would walk from his moored craft and enter the hub of the Belt through one of the air-locks, where he would climb out of his space suit and move naturally in the air-conditioned sections.

	Kemlo, being born in space, could not live in the air-conditioned sections and thus had his own entry chute through which, via a magnetic-braking ramp, he would pilot the scooter and hand it over to Sam, the crusty but likeable old technician in charge of the boys' space scooter section. From there Kemlo would climb into the mono-rail car which ran around the whole circumference of the Satellite Belt and step off when it reached his own section.

	He was entering the domed passageway leading to his quarters when he was almost knocked over by the leaping, exuberant Krillie, his young friend. Accompanying Krillie was the tall gangling figure of Kerowski, with whom Kemlo had shared several adventures in the past and who was in the same technical school grade. Krillie, who was much younger, was a firm friend, as were the families of both boys, and although somewhat impetuous, Krillie had a lot of sense for his age. He also had a great ability to pester, and despite being glad to see him Kemlo felt rather disgruntled, being tired after the exciting day with Calvin Lester.

	'We watched for you coming in, Kemlo,' Krillie piped. 'Did you go out in that charter craft? Did you pilot it yourself? Did you have lots of fun? Where did you go?'

	'I'm tired,' Kemlo protested, grasping Krillie's ear and holding, him at a distance. 'Will you stop climbing all over me? Yes I have been in the charter craft, and yes, I did pilot it, but where we went is none of your business.'

	'But you've got to tell me—you've just got to!' Krillie insisted. 'You know I'm leading all the rest of my class in writing the diary and I just have to know everything.'

	'There are some things you won't know, and you'd better stop pestering Kemlo, or else you'll get more than your ear pinched,' said Kerowski. 'I fain would be preserved from the attentions of such an unwholesome brat.'

	'Oh, pipe down,' said the unabashed Krillie. 'You're always spouting long words. We know you fancy yourself as a second Shakespeare.' He paused in his hopping about and gazed intently at Kemlo as he asked in a less agitated voice: ' 'Spect you really are tired, Kemlo. If I'm good and don't ask any more questions, will you come into the refreshment bay and have some food with us and then tell me just a little bit of what it was like, eh, Kemlo?' Krillie's voice ended on a pleading note.

	Kemlo had to laugh as he ruffled the younger boy's already tousled hair.

	'All right,' he agreed. 'But I want to go to my quarters first and have a shower and change.'

	'I'll come along with you,' said Kerowski. 'It will be quite a relief to be free of this yelping little creature for a time. Krillie and his diary and his questions can become positively overpowering.'

	Krillie pulled a face and put out his tongue, then turned as they came to a junction in the passageway.

	'I'm growing faster all the time,' he announced, standing with feet apart and assuming a belligerent attitude. 'And when I've grown a lot more, do you know what I'm going to do?'

	'Tell us—we can't wait to hear,' said Kerowski.

	'I'm going to punch you right on the nose just as soon as I can reach it. It's only because I'm littler that I let you call me all the names you do.' Krillie lashed out suddenly with his clenched fist and caught Kerowski in the midriff.

	'Ouch!' Kerowski doubled up.

	Krillie turned again and sauntered casually away, glancing back over his shoulder and grinning broadly at Kemlo. 'Don't be long,' he said, then gathered speed and scooted along the passageway as Kerowski made to move after him.

	Kerowski laughed as Krillie scuttled around a bend in the passageway and disappeared from sight.

	'He's a lively lad right enough, but, oh dear—the questions! He's had his nose glued to the audovisor screen ever since you went out, and when he saw you leave the coasting area in the charter craft you couldn't budge him.' Kerowski glanced at his friend as they reached the door of Kemlo's cubicle. 'What was the trouble out there, Kem?'

	'Trouble?' Kemlo repeated innocently. 'What trouble?'

	'I'm not Krillie—remember?' Kerowski followed Kemlo into the cubicle. 'I'm your pal and I'm grown up; at least, I'm as much grown up as you are. I know the rules about firing ray guns, and I know that there hasn't been any ray gun practice ordered.'

	'Then how do you know there's been any gunfire?'

	'What's the matter with you?' Kerowski asked in surprise. 'Didn't you know that the amber signal light goes up whenever ray gunfire is recorded by Control?'

	Kemlo stared at Kerowski for a few seconds. He was a little shocked by his failure to remember one of the automatic safety devices employed to warn all inhabitants of the Belt if any unidentified gunfire was recorded within the vicinity. On official practice firing, the impulse receivers were disconnected from the danger signal and switched to a routine warning which was a light blue in colour. Batteries of varied coloured warning lamps were placed in every section of the Satellite Belt so that no matter where you were, you could always see the warning light and hear the buzzer connected to it. Also, the duty men would carry out a certain routine of preparatory defence measures when the amber light flicked on.

	Kemlo thought that Calvin Lester must have forgotten this system too. No wonder Jeff had been rather sharp, for as Technical Duty Officer it would be his job to explain the gunfire warning.

	'Something did happen out there,' Kemlo admitted in a low voice, 'and I don't doubt that you'll hear all about it very soon, but I'm under promise not to tell.'

	Kerowski shrugged his thin shoulders and wrinkled up his long and attractively ugly face in a wide grin.

	'That suits me,' he replied. 'But you won't find Krillie so easy to satisfy.'

	'Don't I know it!' Kemlo grinned back as he began to undress. 'Will you do me a favour while I'm taking a shower?'

	'I'm broke, as always,' said Kerowski quickly and defensively,

	'This won't cost you anything,' Kemlo laughed. He slipped on his bathrobe and pointed to the bookshelves which lined the opposite wall of the cubicle. 'Dig out the technical space manual and find the sections dealing with spectrums and space rainbows.'

	'Look—school's over,' Kerowski protested. 'We're on holiday. If I never see that manual again it'll be too soon.'

	'Get on with it.' Kemlo gave him a push as he walked from the cubicle. 'I won't be long.'

	When he returned from the shower Kerowski was sprawled on the bed, the manual open on his chest.

	'All right, master brain,' said Kemlo as he tossed off the robe and went to lift a clean outfit from his clothes locker. 'What have you found?'

	Kerowski opened one eye and quoted in a singsong voice: 'Thus a white-light spectrum is seen as a band of colour changing from red of long wavelengths through orange, yellow, green, etc., to violet of short wavelengths. This is the typical continuous spectrum. You would need a spectroscope, which is apparatus for examining a spectrum visually. Some infra-red binoculars are suitable for distant visual inspection, but an astronomical telescope ...'

	Kerowski's parrot-like declaiming was cut short by Kemlo's balled-up robe hitting him smack on the face.

	'I know you've got a photographic memory,' said Kemlo, 'so you don't have to impress me. Now sit up and take notice. Does the manual give anything on solid spectrums?' He held up his hand as Kerowski began a sharp retort: 'And you needn't tell me that all spectrums can be solid or that all solids have a spectrum. I don't want to be sidetracked into a hopeless discussion. I want to know if there's such a thing listed as a projected solid spectrum.'

	This question brought Kerowski slowly upright on the bed, his eyes gazing wonderingly at his friend.

	'A projected solid spectrum?' he repeated. 'Are you crazy?'

	'Maybe.' Kemlo grinned as he began to dress. 'Just look it up and see.'

	It didn't take Kerowski long to complete this task. 

	'There isn't any such thing,' he declared. 

	'I was afraid of that,' said Kemlo. 'If there's no such thing yet there is such a thing—where does that leave us?'

	'Slightly dippy, I'd say. You can't project a spectrum, Kern.'

	Kerowski became more serious now, for he could see that his friend was trying to get some answer to the problem, although he didn't tell what that problem was.

	'What about the electronic impulse make and break?' said Kemlo. 'You project that and leave a gap between the transmitting and target ends. You can break that circuit any way you want, yet still retain control of the impulse at its farthest end.' Then he shook his head firmly. 'It's a bit too deep for me,' he admitted. 'But there's got to be some reason, and I thought I'd got a clue as to what it was. How about solar rainbows?'

	'Mostly an hallucination of the eye caused by prismatic reflection of some energised particles reflected through solar light so as to appear in front of the viewer, whereas they are, in actual fact, behind him,' Kerowski quoted, slamming the heavy manual shut with a bang. 'In other words—they are there but they are not there. Any more questions?'

	'There's not a chance that any of the solar rainbows could be coloured particles, is there?'

	Kerowski hooted with laughter.

	'It's an optical illusion, my addle-brained old pal,' he said pityingly. 'It's like all rainbows that they have on Earth—you see them but they're not there because you can walk through them.' Suddenly he burst into howls of laughter.

	'It's not so funny,' Kemlo growled as he finished dressing.

	'I was just thinking,' Kerowski chortled. 'Fancy having a solid rainbow and people finding it so pretty that they wanted to cut chunks off it and keep it for kids to play with.'

	'Well, I've seen a rainbow that you could bounce a space craft off,' said Kemlo, stung to an indiscreet retort.

	Kerowski stood up suddenly.

	'You've what?'

	'Forget it,' said Kemlo. 'I nearly broke my word then, but you goaded me into saying it. I'm not joking about this, Krow.' He gazed at his friend seriously. 'Remember when you and I got a bouncing on what we call the Mars ghost run?'

	'Of course I do.'

	'Well, it's tied up with that, so will you leave it for now and not ask any more questions?'

	"That's all right, Kem,' said Kerowski quietly. 'You'll tell me when you're ready. Let's go down and face that question hungry Krillie.'

	Somehow Kemlo managed to answer Krillie's many questions satisfactorily. Later in the evening he met his parents and had a long discussion with his father, with whom of course he did not need to be secretive about the events of the day. Being chief technical officer, his father had already received a report from Calvin Lester.

	'You'd better keep very quiet about this, Kemlo,' he advised. 'We're sending out a complete research crew and craft. We'll soon get to the bottom of it.'

	'Calvin Lester thought I was crazy when I told him about it,' said Kemlo. 'He seemed to feel you might think he was crazy, too.'

	Kemlo's father laughed softly. 'I've been too long in space to disbelieve any story or to believe any story until it is either proved or not proved,' he replied. 'Unfortunately, there are some things in space one cannot conclusively prove, but don't you worry any more about it, Kemlo—we'll find out.'

	The next day it was obvious to all the inhabitants of Satellite Belt K that something quite important was afoot. Two modern research ships had been sent up from Earth and highly trained crews climbed into them. The ships were gone for all that day and the night—although it is as well to mention that for the inhabitants of the Satellite Belt there was no night as known to Earth-men. Nevertheless, being human beings, they conformed to a twenty-four hour clock and although the light never changed, shades were drawn at what would be the normal hours of Earth's darkness. Thus the habits of living were interfered with as little as possible.

	The research ships and crews returned toward the end of the second day; and Kemlo found the hours passed very slowly while he waited for the evening when his father had promised to come and tell him as much as he could of the results of the search.

	His father's report when at last they did meet was surprisingly brief and Kemlo felt just a little perturbed about it.

	'So you really found something, eh, Dad?' he asked eagerly.

	'No,' his father replied. 'The most modern scientific equipment, the most highly trained men, the fastest and longest range ships have combed the whole area thoroughly. There is no answer either to your question or to that of Captain Lester. There is no sign of a spectrum or obstruction of any nature. And now I'll have to get back because the International Commission will be wanting a report from me. It's cost a lot of money to send those ships up and we've used a lot of time—valuable time and instruments. Somebody's going to look very foolish. Good-night, Kemlo.'

CHAPTER 5
Dangerous Experiment

	Kemlo was very puzzled and not a little concerned over the news relayed by his father, although he knew that his father was much too fair-minded to blame him. After all, the research crews had been sent out because of a report by a captain of charter pilots and not on the word of a boy living on the Satellite Belt. But despite this knowledge Kemlo could not help blaming himself.

	After leaving his father he met Kerowski, and the two boys went to one of the teacher's studies where they would be undisturbed, particularly by the ever-inquiring Krillie. All teachers on the Belt returned to Earth for the duration of the Satellite's school holidays and in their absence their studies could be used by the senior boys. Officially, this use was supposed to be confined to swotting up for exams, or studying for extra curriculum technical training; but in fact they were seldom used for this purpose, although many a party went on behind their closed doors. Occasionally, though, they were used by boys who wanted to discuss things in private.

	Kerowski sprawled in the deep self-moulding chair and exclaimed : 'It's a mess.'

	T know it,' said Kemlo glumly as he sat in the desk chair, tilting it back and resting his heels on the corner of the desk. 'Dad didn't say so in as many words, but I couldn't help feeling he wished I'd kept my mouth shut.'

	'But Cal Lester didn't go over that area just because you mentioned the ghost run,' said Kerowski. 'He would have gone there anyway. Serves them jolly well right for not taking notice of your earlier reports. They had to take notice of it when a captain charter pilot told them.' Kerowski guffawed loudly. 'I bet all those technical officers are scuttling around trying to alibi themselves to the International Commission. There won't half be some juicy reports floating about.'

	'It's not funny,' Kemlo growled. 'Dad's a fine technical officer and it's made him look pretty silly.'

	'But it's not his fault.'

	'He ordered the investigation. It was he who requested the special research ships from Earth base. I'm sorry for Cal, too.'

	'You're sorry from an anxiety complex,' said Kerowski, sitting up in the chair and becoming serious. 'Stick to the facts, Kemlo. You were born in space and you've been travelling around the sky ever since you were old enough to handle a space scooter. You're not a fool, nor is Cal Lester. You both saw that jagged spectrum and you both felt the impact on the hull of the charter craft. You both saw one burst of gunfire disappear harmlessly and you both saw the second one explode against something solid. You couldn't do more than report what you saw and felt. After that it was up to the big men to investigate.'

	Kerowski stood up and began pacing the study, then he stopped and whirled to face Kemlo. 'So it's cost a few thousands and wasted a lot of time,' he said, waving his hands eloquently as if to emphasise his words. 'What if they had found something? Isn't it worth the spending of time and a few thousands to prevent danger to a project that's taken years to prepare and cost millions? What does it matter if some dome-head of a civil servant in the International Commission has a laugh at our expense? Let them write their little reports backwards and forwards.'

	'They don't write them. They tape them.'

	'Don't fiddle-faddle,' Kerowski retorted. 'They love reports, and the more time they can spend blathering, the more they think they earn their pay. But when it comes down to hard facts—it's the space-men, the technicians like your father, the pilots like Cal Lester and the crew-men who really do the job and cope with any dangers there might be.' Kerowski ceased declaiming and became more natural as he sank back in the chair again and asked in a hesitant voice: 'Does this mean we won't get the charter craft and the job of patrolling our section of the space lanes?'

	'What do you think?' said Kemlo crossly.

	Kerowski sighed. 'Aye, there's the rub. I thought it was too good to be true. It would have been the first real space job we've had. There'd be lots of fun, lots of interest—and we'd get paid for it. Just our luck.' He sank farther into the deep chair and glowered morosely at the line of speakers and audovisor frames fitted into the panelling facing him.

	Gloom descended on the study as both boys sat staring across the room, each busy with his own unpleasant thoughts. But fortunately this silence did not last long and was broken by the buzzing of the Satellite Belt intercom which was followed by the operator's voice calling:

	'Calvin Lester calling Kemlo from Control. Captain Calvin Lester calling Kemlo. Report to nearest audovisor screen and make contact.'

	Kemlo jerked his feet from the desk and sprang up, but Kerowski beat him to the audovisor screen and had already moved the contact switch.

	The screen glowed to light and they had a side view of Calvin Lester's head and shoulders. He was speaking to somebody out of sight of the screen, but when he heard their signal he turned to face the screen and, seeing Kemlo, moved the sound switch into the circuit. Kemlo, who had seen the charter pilot only behind the helmet of his space suit, was surprised at the apparent youthfulness, for he had imagined Calvin Lester to be much older. A tanned clean-shaven face with a strong jaw and wide smiling mouth gazed at him from the screen. Only the even, steady, grey-blue, betrayed the man's profession. Just as the old-time sea captains had that clear direct gaze which comes to men who spend much of their life searching the far horizons, so the man who flew his hurtling craft across the endless blue of space held the same intentness in his eyes. An intentness which gave him maturity and belied the otherwise youthful appearance.

	'Hello there, Kemlo!' Calvin's voice was deep and steady.

	'Hello, Cal,' said Kemlo. 'Did you want me?' he added rather inanely.

	The pilot grinned at him, but ignored an obvious retort.

	'I'm just climbing into my space suit and I'll bring the charter craft around to one of your exit chutes. I want you and Kerowski to take her out for a trip to familiarise yourselves with her. Can you be ready in'—he glanced away, evidently at a wall clock— 'say, fifteen minutes?'

	'Can we!' Kemlo exclaimed. 'We'll be at number eight exit chute. Is that all right for you, Cal?'

	'Just fine. I understand you've seen your father?' He must have noticed a change in Kemlo's expression, for he added consolingly : 'Don't let it worry you, son—there won't be any trouble.'

	'It won't affect the project?'

	'Why should it? The research crews found nothing. We only did our job in reporting it.'

	'But what is the explanation? We both know what we saw and felt. Why didn't the crews find anything?'

	Calvin's shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. 'I don't know,' lie admitted frankly. 'But I'll tell you one explanation that some clever fella in the International Commission has suggested.'

	'What's that?'

	'He suggested that we hypnotised each other into believing something was there when it wasn't.'

	'That's daft!' Kerowski exclaimed, butting into the conversation.

	'Is it?' Calvin asked quietly. 'One explanation is as good as another, particularly if they're all daft. Let's forget it, boys. I'll see you in fifteen minutes.' He clicked out the contact and the screen went dark.

	'He's right,' Kemlo agreed. 'Let's forget it. The job's still on and the project's going ahead and, as Cal says, we couldn't do more than report what we saw and felt. Come on, dope, I'll race you to number eight exit.'

	Kemlo sprinted down the passageway and had boarded a monorail car before Kerowski came thudding after him. The mono-rail consisted of single sectioned cars on a constantly moving belt which progressed slowly around the outer perimeter of the Satellite Belt. Although constantly moving, these had an automatic safety device which made it impossible for anyone to be thrown off.

	The journey from the study to number eight exit chute took something less than five minutes, even without rushing; consequently Kemlo and Kerowski had quite a long wait before they saw the charter craft skim out from below the Belt, turn and come side-slipping slowly toward them. As it halted they stepped from the chute, after pressing the switch on their clothes which generated the protective holding rays around them, and moved to meet Calvin Lester as he climbed from the craft.

	'There she is, boys,' said the pilot with a wave of hit hand. 'Kemlo knows all about handling her and I'm confident you'll have no trouble. If you do, you'll be on open contact with Control, and they can reach me even if they can't advise you.'

	'How far do we go, Cal?' Kemlo asked.

	'Please yourselves. Shouldn't be much longer than an hour or so, though, because I'd like to see you back safely before I turn in. I have to be up at three; they're sending up a two-seater express for me.'

	'You've got to go back to Earth?' Kerowski asked. 'Are you going on the carpet?'

	Calvin laughed. 'I wouldn't call it a carpet. One or two people want to ask me a few questions, but I'll be back.' He fumbled for a moment in the slit pocket of his space suit and drew out some folded papers. 'You'd better get this red tape done with first. There are five copies of documents and certificates for you to sign, Kemlo. Once you've signed them, the charter craft is in your charge. Once the project starts, you'll be under my order's, but until then it's just a loose commission for you to familiarise yourself thoroughly with the craft and survey the route you'll be patrolling.' He turned and rested the papers on the hull of the craft while Kemlo took out his micro-pencil and signed his name on the numerous forms and certificates.

	'Well, that's that.' Calvin slapped Kemlo on the shoulder and nodded to Kerowski. 'Look after yourselves and don't do anything foolish. I'll wait until you get back before I go to bed; then I'll see you on my return from Earth.'

	The two boys waited until the charter pilot's tall space-suited figure had reached one of the many air-lock entrances in the outer rim of the Belt before they climbed eagerly into the charter craft.

	Kemlo took his time in adjusting the controls while Kerowski watched and absorbed the slightly different technique required for handling this craft.

	'All set?' said Kemlo at last.

	Kerowski nodded and gave the thumbs-up sign. Kemlo moved the induction lever and sent the craft zooming away from Satellite Belt K.

	'So he's got the lanes charted, eh?' Kerowski observed, pointing to the lighted chart frame.

	'Well, he and his team have been working on it for weeks,' said Kemlo. 'He just made that for me when we were out the other day, but I see that he's filled in all the area now.'

	'Where was this thing you were supposed to have seen?' Kerowski asked.

	'To the right of the zero-two one Line. Just above that curve.'

	Kerowski studied this for a few moments before he said: 'S'funny.'

	'What is?'

	'Well, Cal's made a very symmetrical job of the lanes both for the cargo craft and the crew ships. They all converge at the unloading point.'

	'That's what they are meant to do, you dope.'

	'I know that, but I should have thought he could have gone farther up. He's got plenty of space—and that's not meant to be a pun,' Kerowski added quickly. 'But he's charted the patrol lines with the same half circle and a small curve in the centre. Why has he done that?'

	Kemlo looked at the chart frame. 'I hadn't noticed that before, but he'd only got one of them lined up when I was with him. That curve is just about where we hit the spectrum.'

	'Then he must be allowing that there's a spectrum the other side.'

	'But there isn't. None of his men have reported one from the other side. It's nothing, Krow,' said Kemlo confidently. 'Cal's probably got a tidy mind and he likes to see the thing symmetrical instead of lopsided on a chart. Call mc out the readings on the left side of the lanes—the opposite side to our patrolling points. We'll go over there and take a look.'

	'You shouldn't try any experiments,' said Kerowski warningly. 'It all seems very fishy to me that you should go bumping into a spectrum and nobody can find it afterwards. What if there's a stronger one the other side?'

	'Let's find out,' Kemlo replied grimly. 'Call the numbers.'

	As Kerowski read out the numbers from the chart, Kemlo reset the controls. The craft surged forward at full power, and soon they were crossing the centre area where the new Satellite Belt would take shape.

	'We're getting near to it now,' said Kemlo, glancing at the chart and then at his instruments. 'Get the binoculars out and take a look.'

	Both boys peered through the binoculars, but as nothing untoward came into their view Kemlo put his down.

	'No, it's as dead as clear glass,' he said.

	'It isn't, you know,' said Kerowski suddenly. 'I can see a spectrum.'

	Kemlo grabbed his binoculars again, peered through them and whistled softly. 'So can I—and we're heading right on to it!'

	He made frantic efforts to correct the angle of the craft and was zooming into a wide banking turn when the hull struck some object with terrific force. A force so great that not even the gyroscopes could absorb all of it and the boys were badly jarred in their seats.

	Kerowski was flung to one side and slammed his head against a bulkhead and was promptly knocked out.

CHAPTER 6
Keep Quiet!

	Fighting hard to prevent panic from rising to overwhelm him, Kemlo reset the controls and zoomed the charter craft away in a wide arc. It flew steadily and appeared to be undamaged mechanically, although the hull stress meter showed a slight variance, which meant that the hull was dented but not split.

	Grabbing the binoculars again, Kemlo swivelled in his seat to look back along the line of flight. There was no sign of the spectrum. Only the endless deep blue of the void.

	He throttled back, set course for the Belt and let the craft drift gently in that direction. He was now free to give the unconscious Kerowski some attention, and about to take the first-aid kit from its locker when he saw his friend's body stirring, so he reached out and pulled him upright before speaking to him quietly and urgently.

	'Come on, Krow,' he said, gripping Kerowski's shoulders firmly. 'Pull out of it. You only cracked your head.'

	Kerowski muttered rather indistinctly, then his eyes opened and he blinked rapidly.

	'Sympathy,' he said clearly. "That's what I like about you— you've so much sympathy.'

	'Stop feeling sorry for yourself,' said Kemlo sharply. 'You don't need sympathy for a bump on the noggin. Does it hurt?'

	Kerowski eased himself away from Kemlo's restraining hand and rubbed his head gently just above the temple.

	'No,' he said regretfully, 'it doesn't. It just knocked me silly for a few moments.' He peered at Kemlo through screwed-up eyes. 'What happened back there?'

	'We hit the spectrum, but we're clear of it now and it's gone— vanished like the other one did.'

	'It must have rattled my brains too much for me to concentrate,' said Kerowski slowly, 'but I can't understand why we got tossed about in a craft which is controlled by gyroscopes; at least the compartment we sit in is controlled by them, yet the shock is so great that the gyroscopes can't cope with ii. And what's more—why do I get thrown against a bulkhead? There's no gravity, so how can I fall?'

	Kemlo was silent for a while, a thoughtful, pondering silence.

	'These charter craft generate powerful holding rays which contain a higher percentage of gravitational force,' he said slowly.

	'Oh, fine!' Kerowski exclaimed dolefully. 'Now I get a lecture.'

	'It's not a lecture, you dope. I'm only trying to sort things out. If you are surrounded by even a small amount of gravitational force contained in a shield of rays strong enough to withstand the impact of a meteor, then you must be approaching a force similar to that experienced in a craft passing through the ionic layer.'

	'Or would you rather be a fruit cake?' said Kerowski, rubbing his forehead.

	Kemlo ignored the sarcasm.

	'Flying through space as we are now,' he continued, 'we feel nothing of the gravitational force around the craft because we're insulated from it and the gyroscopes maintain the balance of the control compartment we're sitting in. But if that spectrum contains some electronic impulses, or some form of ray molecules, you would have something like an Earth condition. That's why your head was thrown to the outer edge of the compartment.'

	'I'm getting a bit of a headache now,' Kerowski admitted. 'Just make it simple, will you?'

	'It is simple,' Kemlo replied. 'Look where you're sitting. You're right close to me, practically in the centre of the compartment. Try throwing yourself to that side, but don't bump your head again.'

	'I will endeavour to avoid that playful gesture.' Kerowski made a determined effort with his body, moving away from Kemlo. Then he stopped, turned and stared wide-eyed as he exclaimed 'I can't do it!'

	'Now try falling toward me.'

	Kerowski tried so enthusiastically that his shoulder slammed hard against Kemlo's body and their heads met with a resounding crack.

	'Ooow!' Kerowski yelled. 'That was too easy.'

	'I'll say it was!' Kemlo grinned, rubbing the side of his head. 'We both generate a certain amount of gravitational force, therefore we can fall toward each other. But I can't fall easily to my side of the craft, nor can you to your side. But when we were immediately on top of the spectrum we had what was almost an Earth condition.'

	'Which proves exactly what?'

	'Well, as far as I can work it out,' Kemlo spoke slowly and thoughtfully, 'we have a generated spectrum which is even stronger than a holding ray—at least so far as gravitational force is concerned. And it must be man-made!'

	Kerowski stared at Kemlo. 'You're crazy,' he said bluntly. 'If it were man-made we'd know about it. Calvin Lester would have known about it; the research crews would have known about it.'

	'I know all that, but I still think I'm right,' Kemlo insisted stubbornly. 'An astral storm is a space phenomenon; a flight of cosmic particles is the same. A breakaway planet is a phenomenon of space because it's suspended beyond the orbit of a charted planet. But all those things are explained—they're tangible.'

	'I see what you're getting at,' Kerowski replied seriously, 'but this spectrum thing is tangible because you can see it through binoculars and you can feel it when you hit it in a craft.'

	'And if it were moving when you saw it, it might well be some force which the space scientists haven't yet found out about. But it doesn't move. It's not like a meteor or a shower of cosmic particles which hurtle across the void and are gone. If you're in their path they hit you, and that's that. They don't just stay motionless and then disappear the next time you look at them; in fact, you're lucky if you can see them at all. So unless this is something the science bods haven't a clue about—something by which space has beaten all their instruments—it must be man-made !'

	Kerowski was about to reply when the audovisor call-signal buzzed and the screen flickered to light. Calvin Lester's head and shoulders appeared in the screen.

	'Control advised me that your craft was on a returning beam,' he said. 'You've made a quick trip. Are you coming straight in?'

	'Yes, we're on our way now,' Kemlo replied.

	'Good. I'll wait for you. Some news has just come through that will interest you, and I'm glad to have a chance of speaking to you before I go back for a day or two. Did you follow the chart all right?'

	'Fine,' said Kemlo, after a slight hesitation. 'We were just coasting along talking about things, but I'll put on speed now and come straight in.'

	'You do that. I'll climb into a space suit and meet you in your open section. So long!' The screen went dark and the green light flickered twice to denote that the contact was cleared.

	Kemlo adjusted the controls, moved the induction and sent the charter craft hurtling forward in the direction of the Belt.

	'What are we going to do about this?' Kerowski asked. 'Make a report?'

	'We've made reports before. Cal made a report, and look what happened.'

	'I suppose it's best to keep quiet,' Kerowski agreed regretfully. 'But it does seem crazy when we've actually seen and felt this ... this...'—he shrugged—'whatever it is.'

	'I wonder why the charter pilots from the other Belts haven't found it?' said Kemlo. 'We've been right over the area of the space lanes.'

	'They haven't been there yet. I was speaking to Samson of S Belt about the sports they're holding, and he told me he's going in one of the charter craft when the project starts, but they haven't been over the area at all yet. They've only been cruising around the Belt getting used to the craft.'

	'Perhaps we're lucky—or unlucky.' Kemlo smiled grimly. 'We've got the captain of charter pilots with us so he's let us do more than any of his pilots would dare to without special orders, I suppose.'

	'Maybe that's it,' Kerowski agreed.

	'I think we ought to tell Cal, though,' said Kemlo, after a long silence. 'There's no sense in us making an official report after what's happened to the others, but it's only fair that Cal should know what we're up against.'

	'He might not believe us. He might think we're making it up just to look big.'

	'Show him the bump on your head.' Kemlo glanced at his friend. 'You have got a bump, haven't you?' he asked anxiously.

	Kerowski felt the side of his head and nodded slowly.

	'I've got a bump right enough. That's not much proof, though; I could have done it anywhere.'

	'Pity it didn't bleed, then we'd have some blood to show him on the bulkhead where you hit it.'

	'Oh, fine!' said Kerowski, edging away from Kemlo. 'Now I have to spill my blood to prove this crazy story.'

	'I only said it was a pity. I didn't say you had to bang your head again to make it bleed.'

	'Thanks a lot.' Kerowski gave a little sigh as he pointed ahead. 'Well, we're nearly home. I hope Cal believes us.'

	They need not have worried so much about it. After being with Calvin Lester for a while, Kemlo managed to find a suitable opening in the conversation to mention the incident of the spectrum across the space lanes and by telling the story simply and clearly he impressed the charter pilot that they were not just making it up.

	'When I saw by the course which Control had charted of your flight, I guessed you would be going to the far side of the area,' he said, 'and I'm going to be honest and admit that I wondered whether you would find something similar there. I sent two of my pilots from the other Belts out there earlier, but they didn't strike anything. I had to be careful, of course, because I'm under orders not to discuss the matter. There are a lot of hard feelings over the money and time that's been spent without result and I had to tell the pilots to make a brief survey. I doubt if they even used the binoculars; and if they didn't, they might well fly over that spectrum line and not strike it at all. Or perhaps it wasn't there when they flew over. It's a very, very puzzling thing,' he continued with much emphasis. 'I did my job and my duty in reporting it and the technical officers did their job in investigating it. So far as the International Commission is concerned, the matter has been thoroughly investigated and is now closed—except for a slight carpeting of yours truly.'

	'It's not fair that you should be carpeted when we know there is something out there,' said Kemlo. 'Making you fly back to Earth and waste all that time giving explanations and probably getting told off.'

	'I'm not going back to Earth merely for that,' said Calvin. 'I thought that was the reason at first, but the project's plans have been speeded up slightly and I have to go down to check personally with Flight Control.' He looked gravely at both boys as he observed: 'We'll keep quiet about this for the simple reason that there's not much else we can do, but it will be between the three of us. Perhaps we are imagining it?' He shrugged. 'Perhaps there is something in space that has hit us all; but personally I don't think so. But for now we'll forget it and I'll pass on to the news I have for you. When I say we'll forget it, I mean we'll forget it as far as discussing it between anyone but ourselves. Right ?'

	'Right,' Kemlo agreed.

	'I still have the feeling that we ought at least to tell Kemlo's father,' said Kerowski.

	'I said forget it.' Calvin's voice became sharp. 'Every known means has been used to check our story and previously they had checked on a report of yours. The result was negative. Only time will tell whether there is something out there beyond our knowledge and instruments, or whether it's just—imagination.' He gazed steadily at Kerowski as he added: 'And if I find you have talked to anyone about it I will personally tie your legs around your neck and stuff you in a waste converter.'

	Kerowski shuddered. 'I am dumb,' he said.

	'We know that,' Kemlo retorted. 'But Cal means you don't talk.'

	'I am well aware of what Captain Calvin Lester means,' Kerowski declared snootily. 'Let us now pass on to more pleasant topics. What news have you for us, oh my captain?'

	Calvin grinned. 'That's better. The news? Well, the project is going to start the day after I get back. From that day you boys will be kept busy patrolling the area of the space lanes which lie thirty-two degrees left of the Mars space lane. The crew ships will take off first and they will be positioned at the topmost apex of a diamond. There will be ten crew ships and two instrument ships. The instrument ships will generate most of the holding rays for the top of the apex. Forty cargo ships will come up in flights of four and take up positions to complete the diamond formation. The master-ship will follow and position itself in orbit with the others and, of course, with Earth at the base of the diamond.

	'The master-ship will be the headquarters for the whole project. Several of the crew ships will be turned into hospital, first-aid and security patrol ships. Your job will be to patrol the perimeter around the Mars side of the diamond. Once we Start unloading it's expected that we may have trouble in keeping the various sections of the Belt in orbit, so you will have a special |ob in that respect. You'll be told about that later. You'll have a lot of responsibility and you'll have to keep your wits about you, but I have great faith in you and I know that you won't let me down.'

	'We certainly won't,' they chorused eagerly.

CHAPTER 7
Space Armada

	Life on the Satellite Belt was never dull for the boys who were born there, but the project of building a new Satellite made for additional excitement and interest, and Kemlo and Kerowski were kept busy answering all manner of questions, but regretfully had to refuse many of their friends rides in the charter craft. Orders were very strict on this point, and they dared not disobey by sneaking out with anyone, much to the disgust of their special friends.

	Among the grown-ups on the Belt there was a different sort of excitement. To them the project meant something much bigger than just the thrills of seeing the great armada of space ships from Earth cleaving their course through the void to take up position around the area which had been charted for this purpose.

	In so many ways Kemlo and his friends, in fact all children born on any of the Satellite Belts, were different from their parents. At first this might seem an impossible situation, but their lives were very happy and at least to the children quite normal, although their very existence disproved the theories held for centuries by men on Earth before they built their Satellites in the sky.

	Even in the simple matter of names, the differences were very considerable, for all children born on the Belts were given names beginning with the call-sign of their respective Belt. Thus those born on Satellite Belt K had names beginning with K; those on Belt S with S, and so on. They had just the one name and as there was no duplication, it served both as christian and surname.

	The diary in which Kemlo's young friend Krillie was so absorbed was a form of competition among the younger children, who had to write the details of their life on the Belt and record the many things which they thought were important. The winners of this competition would have their work published by the educational authorities on Earth, and it would be read by Earth school children. There were plenty of stories and reports, even daily news bulletins, from the Satellite Belts to Earth, but these had not quite the same personal value as the diary written by the children who lived in space.

	These children were strong and healthy, with only a few fundamental differences from their Earth-born counterparts. They had extremely wide shoulders and deep chests and, age for age, were slightly taller and more easy moving. As there is no gravity pull in space, special gravity exercise rooms were provided where every child spent a portion of his day, thus keeping his muscles strong and supple. The Satellite Belts had proper schoolrooms and the children were taught by fully qualified teachers sent up from Earth.

	All teachers wore an indoor space suit, which was so fine in texture that it looked more like a transparent plastic envelope. The small flat canisters of life-giving oxygen and diathene were hardly noticeable, and the two-way speaker of this suit was highly sensitive and natural in tone. This space suit was the result of over a hundred years of development and did not need a vizor to protect the eyes from solar penetration. In the open sections of the Belt the light of space was shut out, and a 'sun-glow vita' lighting was used, which kept the children healthy and also provided a natural light for the Earth-born grown-ups. The indoor space suits had only one thing in common with the armoured suits worn outside the Belt; all had heavily weighted soles to the feet. Although a slight gravity pressure was fed through rays in the open sections, the weighted feet allowed the teachers to move in comfort, whereas Kemlo and his friends possessed a natural balance and could move gracefully and easily without doing such silly things as turning upside down or floating along sideways. In fact, such performances were punishable offences except in the games-room or when the children were free to play as they wished.

	When grown-ups entered the open sections of the Belt they passed from their own air-conditioned quarters through a series of air-locks. In these air-locks they donned a self-sealing indoor space suit which was worn only once, then discarded after the canisters, removable weighted soles and micro-speaker attachment had been removed. These suits were returned to Earth where a special process reduced them to a liquid!, and this liquid in turn was processed into long sheets of material which ultimately emerged as made-up suits ready to wear again. The cost was reckoned at less than that of a pocket handkerchief, and yet nothing but the chemical which dissolved them into liquid could destroy them. They were fireproof, tearproof and almost weightless, and when worn, billowed very slightly due to the circulation within the suit of oxygen and diathene which, aided by a minute but one hundred per cent effective waste converter, kept the wearer fresh for several hours.

	It had taken more than a century of experiment before such a space suit could be evolved, and now scientists were endeavouring to find a similar suit which could be worn by space-born children so that they could not only visit Earth but also enter the air-conditioned sections of the little world in which they were born and lived.

	Food was another major difference in the space-born children's lives. They seldom ate meat, but if on rare occasions they did, it was always the white meat of fowl or fish. But they had not much palate for these foods and preferred to consume large quantities of fruit drinks and various fruits made into compressed blocks which they chewed and enjoyed with as much relish as Earth-born children enjoyed sweets and candy.

	Being born in and becoming immune to solar penetration, their bodies seemed to draw vitaminised life from the very space around them. What would be death for the Earth-born was life to them, but conversely what was life to the Earth-born was death to the children of space. Too much oxygen taken too suddenly would not only make a space-born child seriously ill but eventually kill him. But one day scientists would invent a complete protection for the space-child and then Man's inventiveness would have swung full circle.

	The Satellite Belts were almost self-supporting little worlds, spinning, always spinning, at over fifteen thousand miles an hour, more than a thousand miles in the sky above their Mother Earth. They would go on spinning until the end of time, and at that speed appeared motionless to those who lived on or visited them—spinning like tiny stars in their orbit with Earth. They generated their own power to feed the mass of scientific instruments with which they observed the Universe, and Earth shining greenly below them. They created their own power to feed the waste converters, the air-conditioning plants, the lighting, cooking and all other essential functions of a modern civilisation. They received teleview broadcasts from Earth more clearly than many people on Earth could receive them. Each Belt, a world above the world, in turn broadcast back to Earth. Each Belt had its own church and hospital and school, its own concert hall, ballroom and gymnasium, and in the open sections where the children lived, everything needed for work and play was provided.

	In only one degree were all those living on the Satellite Belts dependent upon Earth, and that was for the vital supply of food. Huge deep-freeze containers housed sufficient food stores for two years, but after that there was no way of obtaining fresh supplies unless the space machines attached to each Belt could reach another planet where there was vegetation and some form of animal life.

	Kemlo and all the children born on Satellite Belt K, as well as their companion Belts strung across the sky, were the first space-born generation. The older ones knew now that when they grew up they would fulfil the dreams which for centuries people on Earth had planned and fought and worked to make into reality. When they became trained in the various technical grades and had absorbed the necessary political and social learning, they would take over the Belt and run it as their parents, uncles and aunts now were running it. Perhaps by that time Earth men and women, aided by the intricate research carried out on each Belt, would have pioneered a settling on some other planet; but until then life was happy even though, of necessity, divided into two sections of living—the air-conditioned and the open sections where Earth-born and space-born lived side by side.

	To the grown-ups the coming of the space armada to build another Satellite Belt was a momentous step in living history. But more than that it brought back the memories of when they were children and their parents had been among the pioneers who had helped to build the very first of those Belts; and they remembered their own early fears, their homesickness, their struggles to accustom themselves to living in a community a thousand miles above their own Earth. They remembered, too, how crude those earlier efforts seemed in comparison with the present-day peak of technical efficiency. But they knew that it was due to their parents' efforts and now to their own that this new Satellite Belt would be established. It was from their mistakes, their experiences, from their heartbreaks and disappointments that the scientists had learned and would go on learning.

	While the children were thrilled and forever scampering up to the observation platforms of the outer rim of the Belt, the grownups too felt something of a thrill, but theirs was tinged with wonder—the wonder of how far Man could go before he overreached himself. Then they remembered that when they were child; en, their parents and grandparents had said the same things. But life had gone on and each generation had added to it. A new Satellite Belt in the sky meant another migration of pioneers from Earth, because every new Belt was always populated by hand-picked and highly trained personnel, a certain proportion of whom were married but all were young—young enough for their first child to be born on the new Satellite Belt. So to the grownups it was more than just the thrill of seeing a space armada. But they were tolerant and wise enough to know that their space-born children thought nothing and knew little of those early years and saw in this project only a great adventure.

	In a week Calvin Lester returned, and two days after that Kemlo and Kerowski moved out from the Belt in the charter craft and waited on the outer perimeter of the space lanes for the first sight of the crew ships.

	'So it's really happening!' Kerowski exclaimed eagerly as he peered through the canopy into the empty void beyond. 'Have you checked the time, Kent?'

	'You're jabbering as much as Krillie does,' Kemlo said. 'It still wants seven minutes to zero.'

	'I hope that first formation doesn't hit the spectrum.'

	'You keep quiet about that spectrum—forget it.'

	'It's not easy to forget. If any of those ships go off-course and that spectrum's still there, they're going to get a fearful shaking up. Might even explode the ships.'

	'It might do a lot of things,' said Kemlo sharply. 'But they shouldn't be that distance outside the lanes, anyway. They're on-course the second they leave the Bohana base.'

	'I'm talking about if they go off-course.'

	'Well, don't talk about it. How many ships have gone off-course this past year?'

	'One,' said Kerowski flatly. 'The Deimos research ship blew up.'

	'That was only slightly off-course, but the report said that the back thrust tubes disintegrated.'

	'The Belt Control screens photographed the explosion, but no one ever saw a piece of the ship after that. How do they know the back thrust tubes disintegrated?'

	'How do they know a lot of things?' Kemlo retorted. 'Great sizzling meteors, Krow! I've never known you so jittery. What's the matter with you?'

	'It is my ingrained sensitivity. I suffer for others. I think of those mere mortals at this moment fastening themselves on to their £-beds, sweating with fear while they wait for the blackout as their ship hurtles upward. I think of their sorrowing wives and children.'

	'Oh, pipe down,' Kemlo chuckled. 'They're all young, highly trained and tough, and although some of them might have a wife, none of them has any children. Your ingrained sensitivity sounds like indigestion.'

	'That's a libel!' Kerowski hiccoughed suddenly. 'Ye gods!' he exclaimed. 'It is indigestion!'

	'It was that extra iced fruit drink you gulped down before we came out,' said Kemlo; then abruptly he pointed to the glowing screens on the control-panel in front of them and exclaimed: 'There's the signal. Listen!'

	Both boys leaned forward in their seats, gazing at the lighted screens and waiting as the speaker hissed on the open circuit before a rasping voice from the Bohana launching grounds Control said:

	'Ten seconds to take-off! Nine, eight, seven, six ...'

	'Phew!' Kerowski whispered, wiping beads of perspiration from his forehead.

	'... five, four, three, two!' the rasping impersonal voice continued; then on a higher note which betrayed the human excitement of the operator, the voice said: 'Number one crew ship away!'

	Kemlo switched on the large ascent timing meter and they both watched the red hand flick remorselessly—one, two, three, four. The voice came again through the speaker. 'Number two crew ship away!'

	So it went on through the tense and silent moments. The silence was broken only by that far-away rasping voice as each ship cleared its launching pit and soared up into the sky above Earth, hissing on its powerful course through the cloudbanks into the upper air; cleaving on through the stratosphere with its hull glowing, up through the ionic layer until it reached free flight.

	The seconds ticked away, the voice kept on as one by one the machines hurtled upward from their Bohana base.

	'Number one cargo ship away—number two cargo ship away!'

	The radar screen was picking up flickers from the impulses thrown out by the first crew ship and as these signs neared the centre of the screen so another small dot appeared in the lower corner, moving up toward the centre.

	'Any second now!' Kemlo breathed, not knowing why he was whispering nor realising that his voice was husky and strained with the tense excitement of these moments.

	As the first impulses neared the purple dot in the centre of the radar screen the boys concentrated 'heir attention on the large frame of the audovisor which was linked by electronic impulse to the powerful reception screens housed in the Satellite Belt and to which channels their craft's instruments were now tuned.

	'There she is! There she is!' Kerowski yelled, his voice cracking with excitement.

	At the bottom edge of the screen there appeared the sharp-pointed nose of the first ship, gleaming and spinning, yet so perfect was the focus on its flight that it seemed scarcely to be moving. A weird optical illusion, for its speed, as both boys knew, must be between fifteen and eighteen thousand Earth miles per hour. Then to the left of it they saw the nose of the second crew ship come sliding up the sky; to the right came the third, to the left the fourth, to the right the fifth, and so on until by the time the first crew ship had left the screen sight the tenth crew ship was searing upward behind the other nine.

	The boys looked up quickly through the canopy and saw far away to the right of them, beyond the gleaming Satellite Belt, tiny in the distance yet huge in fact, the first three ships with the others mere tiny specks behind them. In seconds the formation loomed up, increased in size, and then again became tiny specks.

	They looked back at the radar screen and the audovisor frame, and plotted the first of the cargo ships; but they had forgotten the two instrument ships and these were the first to appear. They were huge even when viewed at this distance; great gleaming white monsters, the broad red line from nose to tail making them appear as if they were cut in half. They zoomed in a curving graceful arc—streamlined beauty of power against the blue-black backdrop of space. Then they too disappeared in the wake of the crew ships.

	Behind them in flights of four came the stubby-looking black cargo ships—man-made beetles crawling at thousands of miles an hour through space.

	The ships sped on, four at a time, climbing up first to be seen as tiny dots; then larger; then back to tiny dots lost in the immensity of space. Forty dots in lines of four, carrying all the prefabricated sections of the vast and intricate inanimate things which ultimately would become another Satellite Belt.

	The speaker crackled louder now and the operator's voice from the Control on the Bohana launching grounds was becoming strident both with its efforts of announcing and, no doubt, the human excitement of notifying the take-off of this great space armada.

	'Master-ship ready!' the voice announced. 'Three seconds to take-off. Three, two, one!' Then the voice broke the bounds of impersonal reporting and yelled: 'She's away, folks! There she goes! The biggest of them all!'

	Neither Kemlo nor Kerowski could speak now. It was as if they were exhausted by the tension of these last moments, and were awed by the tremendous effort which had sent fifty-three space ships hurtling into the heavens above Earth while they— two boys in a tiny, yet powerful, craft—sat in the sky watching the armada flash across their view.

	The screens were clear for just a few seconds before the radar recorded the impulses and gradually the pointed nose of the master-ship showed in the audovisor frame.

	Slowly it edged upward; a great shining sleek yellow monster, following its own pre-charted space lane in the wake of the armada. For a moment it filled the screens. The boys looked up and saw it in the distance like a yellow pencil slowly growing larger, bulging a little as it came side view toward them. Then it was gone and the screens were empty.

	The cool impersonal voice of Kemlo's father from the Satellite Belt K said:

	'Satellite K to Bohana Control. All ships have entered orbit and have formed diamond formation in area. Master-ship now taking up position. Am opening circuits for your reception from master-ship. Over and out.'

	Kemlo looked at Kerowski and mopped his perspiring face.

	'Let's go and take a look,' he said huskily.

CHAPTER 8
Trim the Diamond!

	The diamond formation of the ships was certainly a thrilling sight to Kemlo and Kerowski as they neared the area of their patrol. The opalescent curtain of holding rays rippled around the whole formation, extending until it threw a canopy above and a whitely shimmering carpet below the ships.

	All the ships were clearly visible through this protective screen of holding rays, although the outlines were slightly blurred, but this added to the somehow unreal beauty of the sight of the great armada positioned in the intense blue of space.

	Kemlo tuned in to the electronic tape channel and for a while he and Kerowski listened to the babble of voices as the control-room of Satellite Belt K exchanged messages with the mastership's captain. Many technical points were being verified, and instrument readings taken and proved before the captain of the space armada would order the exit chutes to be opened. In the meantime, all the ships moved at precisely the same orbital speed as that of a Satellite Belt—a speed which would be maintained while the new Belt was being constructed. Once they reached the orbital speed, none of the ships needed any power and unless their motors were restarted they would remain in that position until the end of time. What would actually happen was that when the whole project had been completed, the ships' motors would be restarted, their holding rays adjusted so as to give them a forward thrust and in a few seconds they would start their return flight to Earth.

	'Do you know much about this Captain Heralgo?' Kerowski asked.

	'I've seen him on the Earth T.V. relays, but I don't think he likes appearing in public very much.'

	'Why?'

	'Because he's visited the Belt several times and Dad admires him tremendously, but we never got a chance to meet him, and you know it's generally the rule that all the chief space captains come and talk to us either in school or in the concert hall.'

	'That's right,' Kerowski agreed. 'I remember now. He's the only one who said he hadn't got time for it. Perhaps he's one of those snooty bods?'

	'I don't think so. He's quite young for the position he holds. Dad says that he has more courage than any man he knows and that he's a brilliant leader, but he's awfully shy and hates social occasions.'

	'They say he's pretty fierce as a captain—a proper terror for discipline.'

	'He'd have to be to control this lot.'

	'Seems too much for just one man, but I expect he's got experts under him with control sections of the crews.'

	'Of course he has, you dope,' said Kemlo derisively. 'Every part of the project has its special crew of expert technicians. The crews are joined into sections under a discipline sergeant and led by a captain.'

	'I know all that,' said Kerowski loftily. 'Just wanted to see if you knew—dope!'

	Kemlo grinned good-naturedly.

	'Must have been confusing in the old days when they had big armies on Earth,' he observed, 'having all those different ranks to remember.'

	'They must have made things awfully hard for people in those days,' said Kerowski. 'It's hard enough learning the history of them. All those silly words and things. I like books and I like words, but I never got very far in history exams when it comes to parts about the old-fashioned armies of Earth. All those ranks— from privates to generals and what-have-you.'

	'They still have some sort of thing they call a ground army,' said Kemlo. 'But when they formed the International Planet Corps they found that, except for somebody to take responsibility as a leader, they didn't need all the different ranks because every man has to be an expert in one thing, if not in more than one. Some of those privates in the old-time armies must have been a shocking lot of dopes with everyone ordering them about and supposed to know more than they did. Wouldn't have suited me.'

	'Nor me,' Kerowski agreed. 'If I were a qualified electronic science engineer, I wouldn't take orders about that work from anyone who didn't know more than I did.'

	'But you'd respect anyone who did?' Kemlo suggested.

	'Well,' Kerowski began hesitantly. 'I'd respect him for his knowledge the same as I try to respect anyone who knows more than I do. But it seemed that in the old days a lot of people took their orders blindly.'

	'I think they had to. They still do in the Eastern International Zones on Earth.'

	'Different people, different ways, I suppose—as we have different ways from the Earth-boys.'

	'I suppose to people who live in the Eastern International Zones, the Western side of Earth must be as different as our life on the Satellite Belt is compared with life on Earth,' said Kemlo. 'I'm not sure that I want to go down to Earth, Krow.'

	'Nor am I,' Kerowski admitted. 'Life sounds a lot too complicated down there.'

	They were cruising gently around the perimeter of the diamond formation while they were talking in this fashion and had, unknowingly, become more relaxed than they should have been but were quickly jerked into action by a call over the audovisor by a rather stem-faced and coolly voiced Calvin Lester.

	'Why are you boys slouching along the outside edge of the formation like that?' he demanded.

	'We—we were just looking, Cal,' Kemlo replied.

	'Call me sir when you're on duty,' was the stern reply. 'And part of the duties of your patrol is looking—but not gawping. You're forty degrees off-course and you should have patrolled at least once and reported it.'

	'I thought we didn't have to start until the ships unsealed,' said Kemlo, trying not to make an angry retort at what he considered to be unfair treatment.

	'You were assigned to patrol immediately the formation was positioned. Now get on the job and stay there. And don't send in any nonsensical reports about spectrums or other foolish imaginings.' Despite his stern face Calvin Lester's left eye flickered swiftly as he added: 'As it's your first day on patrol you can, if you want, see me on your return to the Belt after your tour of duty has ended. Just notify Control that you're back, and I'll come and see you. That's all. Contact out.'

	The screen went dark and Kerowski pulled a face at it.

	'The halo of righteous authority ill befits our captain of charter pilots,' he observed pedantically.

	'He didn't mean all that,' said Kemlo. 'There are probably a lot of bigwigs in the control-room and Cal had to look fierce and talk briskly. You saw that little wink he flickered at us?'

	'I thought it was a blink, not a wink.'

	'It was a wink right enough,' said Kemlo firmly. 'We've been yapping a bit too much and I'd forgotten I'd only got the craft at half speed, so Cal was right in burning us up for that. But what he really meant was for us to keep our eyes open for the spectrum and then talk to him privately when we come off duty.'

	'You mean he doesn't want us to report it?' Kerowski shrugged. 'That makes sense, but he could have been a bit nicer.'

	'Don't be so sensitive,' said Kemlo as he reset the controls and sent the craft zooming on to its course. 'Cal's got to act differently when he's on duty. Get busy on those charts and call signals and check with the master-ship's Control for identification by numbers of the ships this side of the formation.'

	'Yes, sir.' Kerowski gave a mock salute. 'Three bags full, sir.'

	They both grinned and each concentrated on his particular task. The craft flew around the mid-point of the diamond in a curving arc which brought it to the apex of the formation where Kemlo sent it in a long swirling glide back over their course until they reached the base of the diamond. By this time Kerowski had received all the information they required and had made the appropriate notes on their log sheet. Then he recorded the log sheet details on the electronic tape and after that he was ready to change places with Kemlo and take his turn at the flight controls of the charter craft.

	In order to avoid confusion in their contact with the mastership the boys used Earth terms of distance instead of those with which they were more accustomed, such as leenas, because although the space technicians and control operators in the mastership were quite familiar with these terms, it saved the translation of them back into Earth terms for the purpose of reports back to the Earth base. The habits of men who spent their lives on Earth did at times seem a little absurd to Kemlo and Kerowski and the other space-boys.

	For example, there is no horizon in space other than that made by a man using some part of his craft or space ship as a fixed line.

	Similarly, there are no points of the compass, and boys like Kemlo and Kerowski were used to flying their own small space scooters and assessing their position by instruments aligned both to Control on their own Belt and to their position in relation to the charted space lanes. They lived in a world of distance degrees, or automatic pilot channels, of space lanes and electronic impulse feeds. They were used to never seeing anything around them but the eternal blue of space. Having never visited Earth they did not miss those things which were to the Earth-man such a necessary and natural part of his daily life. So much a part of it that even when he climbed into space he had to have those terms of reference, such as miles instead of leenas, and horizons instead of space lanes. Kemlo and Kerowski could not help chuckling a little when they were informed by the master-ship that the apex of the diamond would be known as north and the side they were patrolling would be known as east. The base of the triangle at which the master-ship was positioned would be known as south and the far side of the triangle would be called west.

	'North, south, east and west,' said Kerowski, dancing his hands in a little singsong action. 'How silly can some of these Earth-men get? They've got a diamond formation with a top and a bottom and two sides.' He bowed slightly toward Kemlo and said with exaggerated politeness: 'Pray, sir, would you care to takeover the controls of this devastating little charter craft and steer it carefully toward the north?'

	'The north?' Kemlo queried, entering into the spirit of the thing. 'We have no north. We have nothing but nothing.'

	'The north is yonder.' Kerowski pointed through the canopy in the direction of the apex of the diamond which at present was not visible.

	'And how far is yonder? Once we visited what is known as the Crazy Planet—that also was yonder.'

	'It was yonder to something like an Earth-man's three hundred thousand miles, or maybe more,' Kerowski replied. 'Yonder is a term of literature not a fact, my friend. We are as yet over a thousand miles from the north—let us hie to our rendezvous before yon Earth-man in the master-ship Control becomes agitated for our safety.'

	'I'm hungry,' said Kemlo, easing into the control seat as Kerowski slid over. 'Get the grub out. We'll start eating when we've reached the north, and then turn and report in.' He began to survey the area around the craft through the infra-red binoculars.

	As the craft progressed along its course he could see the whole of what was now called the east side of the diamond formation of ships. This stood out stark and clear and, by using the infra-red binoculars, he could penetrate the slight vapouring effect of the holding rays which surrounded them.

	'They're opening up, Krow!' he cried.

	Kerowski bent forward and switched on the tape scrambler frame. The lighted frame showed the passing of an enlarged transcribed electronic instruction which was being passed from ship to ship.

	'Instructions are to start opening at the north and work down both sides of the top half of the diamond,' he reported. 'When those crews have gathered, they start opening up from the mastership to the centre.' He leaned back, took out his binoculars and joined Kemlo in watching this fascinating sight.

	They saw the space-suited figures emerging like small yellow flies from the open exit chutes of their ships and, joining up with other crews, make their way toward the centre of the formation, protected all the time by the enveloping curtain of holding rays.

	'They've no safety chains!' Kemlo exclaimed. 'I thought all crews belonging to ships not moored in the electronic anchorage of a Satellite Belt had to wear safety chains?'

	'I thought so, too.' Kerowski peered again at the instruction tape transcription. He had to wait a while before any information referring to safety chains appeared.

	'Freedom of movement,' he announced. 'The holding rays are being kept close set until the larger assembly work starts.'

	'That's sensible,' Kemlo observed. 'They don't really need safety chains whenever they're protected by the holding rays and so prevented from wandering off too far.' He eased the controls and swung the craft around, then cut the induction, re-set their patrol return course and switched over to automatic pilot. 'Let's eat,' he suggested.

	They ate a leisurely meal and maintained an interested observation on the gathering groups of crew-men within the diamond formation. They also had to remember to watch their instruments closely for any signs of disturbances along the path of their patrol. It was not expected that any disturbance would come from space itself; but something might be wrong on the outer edge of the diamond formation and it was this that their instruments would record and that they themselves would see.

	They had their binoculars out again on the return trip. After watching the cargo ships starting to unload, Kemlo swung the glasses around and immediately nudged Kerowski.

	'It's there!' he exclaimed hoarsely. 'That blinking spectrum's there again!'

CHAPTER 9
Captain Heralgo

	'Oh, no—not again!' Kerowski exclaimed plaintively.

	Kemlo eased the craft more in the direction of the line of ships, and at once the warning light flashed and the audovisor screen flared as the head and shoulders of the Satellite Belt operator appeared. Unfortunately it was not Jeff, who was a friendly and quiet-voiced individual. The operator on this occasion was a man named Muncer, who had not long joined the staff of technicians on Belt K.

	'Calling Kemlo in charter craft east of diamond. You're off-course. Report reason immediately.' His voice was snappy and officious.

	'We've just had some food and are coasting for a while,' Kemlo replied, thinking quickly. 'We're allowed to do that, aren't we?'

	'Don't argue with me,' said Muncer. 'You're on patrol, and while you're on patrol you keep to your course. Get back to your proper readings. Over and out.' The screen went dark.

	'Stinker!' said Kerowski in a quietly emphatic voice. 'Who docs he think he is?'

	'He's only doing his job. He hasn't been long enough on the Belt to learn that we don't get ordered about like that, even by the Elders.' Kemlo referred to the men who were the heads of the Satellite Belt communities. 'And, anyway, we can't get back on-course without bumping into that spectrum.'

	'Why no readings on our instruments?' Kerowski queried. 'There's not a flicker anywhere to show that we've an obstruction running alongside us. It doesn't make sense.'

	'Sense or not, we've proved by now it's real enough.' Kemlo picked up the binoculars and peered through them again. As he lowered them he sighed gently. 'Here we go again,' he observed. 'It's gone!'

	Kerowski stared at him, then grabbed his own binoculars and looked for himself.

	'First you see it, then you don't.' He replaced the binoculars slowly in their clip, frowned and directed a quizzical gaze at his friend. 'I suppose we are all right, Kem?'

	'Don't let's start doubting ourselves,' said Kemlo firmly. 'Of course we're all right.'

	'I'm not doubting ourselves exactly, but it does make you wonder.'

	'The more we wonder about it, the better for us,' Kemlo assured him.

	'How do you make that out?'

	'It's something Dad's impressed on me many times. He says that a man must always allow for the fact that he cannot understand everything, but because he cannot understand it doesn't mean that no one else can, either.'

	'Well, no one else can understand this, and that's a fact!' Kerowski retorted.

	'Dad says that everything has an explanation—a reason for being,' Kemlo went on, speaking thoughtfully, as if drawing confidence from the memory of his father's words. 'He says that there are very, very few things which are not understood by someone, even if they cannot be understood by everyone. That's why I say it's good for us to wonder about it because, obviously, no one understands it—not even Calvin Lester nor any of the research technicians they sent out to check on his report. And the more you wonder about it, the more you start forgetting such things as believing you're imagining it, the more you can concentrate on the fact of it.'

	'Can you?' said Kerowski helplessly.

	'Of course you can. You say to yourself: well, if it's there to be seen by others besides myself, then I'm not imagining it. If it's a spectrum reflection in space due to some phenomenon like an Earth rainbow, there's no need to wonder any more about its not being recorded on instruments because it is merely a reflection.'

	'That's a pretty crazy reflection—first time I've ever known a reflection to cause you to smack your noggin against a bulkhead.'

	'Take it easy,' said Kemlo soothingly. 'We're just working it out a bit farther. It cannot be seen with the naked eye, but the infra-red binoculars throw it into relief. There's nothing very strange about that because it's one of the reasons why we carry infra-red binoculars—because the human eye cannot always define things in the light of space. Then we come to the fact that it's solid. Charges from ray guns explode on it but don't shatter it. A charter craft bounces off it, therefore it must be something similar to the holding rays; it must be a generated force which is switched on and off by people.'

	'People!' Kerowski yelped.

	'Yes—people,' Kemlo repeated firmly. 'People on another planet, or even on Earth. People in a ship somewhere a long way beyond the chartered space lanes.'

	'Now you are getting woofy. If it's man-made, why didn't the research crews find it? Why haven't the other space craft found the other one? Answer that, my wondering wizard.'

	'I can't answer it except to guess,' Kemlo admitted, 'but if it is man-made—and you've got to start from somewhere and assume that you're right—then whoever controls it makes sure of switching it off whenever any really big ships get near it. They might even have the ships under observation.'

	'You're not only woofling, you're definitely wiffling as well,' said Kerowski. 'You can't prove any of it.'

	'I think it's proof in itself,' Kemlo retorted calmly. 'We never saw the spectrum before, but we did get shaken up enough times for us to make a report of it and call it a ghost run. Right?'

	'You're right up to there.'

	'Then we've got to remember the only craft that have experienced this shaking up are the smallest craft used in space travel. And those are our own space scooters and this charter craft which has only just been brought into the area. The boys in their scooters from the other Satellite Belts wouldn't come over this area.'

	'Except when they visit our Belt-—you're forgetting that.'

	'No, I'm not. When they visit us they take an entirely different route which crosses the lanes on the Earth side of our Belt. They're several thousand miles away from here.'

	'You're making a bit of sense,' Kerowski admitted grudgingly. 'But what about that spectrum we found the other side of where the diamond formation is now? Why didn't any of the space craft from the other Belts find that one?'

	'We've already had that explained. Calvin Lester's pilots kept all those boys closer to their Belts because they had no instructions to bring them over this area yet. It's only because we were lucky enough to have the captain of the charter pilots instructing us that we came here at all.'

	'But when the research ships came up they never found a trace of anything,' said Kerowski.

	'They're bigger ships—much bigger. You can detect their presence on instruments when they're forty thousand miles or more away. But you couldn't detect our space scooters, or even this craft, unless your instruments were tuned to their line of flight—not until they were right on top of your radar antennae.' Kemlo leaned forward and reset the controls. 'I'm getting back on the route before Muncer starts yapping at us again.'

	When they were proceeding along their normal patrol course Kerowski, who had been silent up to now, said slowly:

	'You know, Kem, there's a lot of sense in the way you work that out. I apologise for trying to get funny. However fantastic it might seem, it must be the only reasonable explanation. If we had found only the colours in the void, it could be an interesting space phenomenon; but when we find it's like a wall of holding rays we've just got to think of it being man-made.' He sighed gustily. 'But I don't really see how much farther it gets us because we've been over all this before and better brains than ours have been put to investigating it.'

	'That's the whole point!' Kemlo exclaimed. 'Let's imagine that you and I were in charge of a special ship circling out of orbit thousands of leenas away from the line of Satellite Belts and clear of the chartered space lanes.'

	'Imagining is worse than guessing,' Kerowski interrupted gloomily.

	'Shut up and listen.' Kemlo frowned in concentration. 'Supposing that we had in this ship a new type of ray projection which we were trying out—a real international secret device. Would we leave it in operation while other ships were flying in or near its projection area? Wouldn't we have some gadget that would tell us when a space ship was getting near it?'

	'Entering into the spirit of the thing,' Kerowski retorted in a patronising manner, 'I'd say we most certainly would, because otherwise our marvellous new projected ray wouldn't be a secret for very long.'

	'That's it!' Kemlo cried. 'Don't you see, Krow—that's it! The presence of tiny space craft like the scooters and this charter craft don't send out enough flight impulses to be picked up any great distance away. We fly on instruments linked to our own beam so that our own people know just where we are; but unless you're on our beam you wouldn't know we were there. But immediately any tiny craft hits that ray it must record some impulse if it is a man-operated projection.'

	'So that when the impact of our small craft reaches the people operating this marvellous ray, they switch it off immediately? That would explain why the thing keeps coming and going.'

	'More important, it explains why the research ships and technicians haven't found anything,' said Kemlo softly. 'Krow, I think we're on to something.'

	'What are we going to do about it?'

	Kemlo shrugged. 'I don't know,' he admitted. 'You concentrate on a problem like this and get it all worked out in your mind so that it seems reasonable, and then you've got to prove it and you're back to where you started.'

	'Do you think Cal would listen?' Kerowski suggested in a hopeful voice.

	Kemlo nodded. 'As soon as we come off patrol we'll see him. I don't care if he laughs at me—I'm going to tell him how I reason it out. I'm not keeping all this to myself.'

	'You'd think some of those science bods would have reasoned it out like that. Why didn't they?'

	'Because they haven't had our experience of it. That's the only explanation. Calvin Lester experienced it once, we've experienced it several times since, and before that we experienced it when we were out in our space scooters.'

	'Then it comes back to us every time.'

	'It's bound to. If that spectrum is man-operated and switched off when impulses are received showing the approach of a space ship, no one will ever find it.' Kemlo glanced at the dials. 'One more trip up to the north of the diamond and we're due for relief,' he said. 'Keep a sharp eye out as I pass the instrument ships. It looked to me as if one of those holding rays was fading as we came past last time.'

	'I'll watch it carefully,' said Kerowski. 'Slow down as we go past.'

	They turned at the base or south point of the diamond formation of ships and sent the craft skimming back along its course. Kemlo slowed as he passed the centre of the diamond and, by hovering a few moments, they were able to inspect the holding rays carefully.

	'There's a weakness on the underside of number twenty-eight,' said Kerowski. 'Better call Control.'

	'You do it,' said Kemlo. 'I'll hover the craft a little closer.'

	Kerowski made contact with Control, and this time Muncer was more pleasant, because the report was one of the vital reasons for the charter craft's patrol.

	'Stay on circuit,' said Muncer, 'and watch those rays over twenty-eight while I contact the ship.'

	After a time the boys saw the fading section of the holding rays flare up to a brilliant white, then trim down to the correct strength as engineers adjusted the output.

	'How does it look now?' Muncer asked.

	'Normal,' said Kerowski. 'Number twenty-eight properly screened.'

	'No other troubles to report?'

	'No, sir.'

	'Very good. Proceed to north of diamond. Your relief from Belt T is waiting to take over. Sight them and return on beam at once. No yapping or scrapping with them—understand?'

	'Yes, sir,' said Kerowski unenthusiastically. 'Over and out.'

	'Just as well we got a direct order,' Kemlo grinned. 'We always manage to get into a fight with those T types. And, anyway, we'll be back quicker.'

	'That Muncer's still a stinker,' Kerowski grumbled. 'But perhaps you're right.'

	They reached the north apex, checked position with the charter craft from Satellite Belt T and, turning in a wide arc, zoomed back toward their own Belt. They used the binoculars for most of the run, but not a sign of the spectrum did they see.

	'Be funny if the T craft hit the spectrum,' Kerowski chuckled. 'They'd be bound to report it.'

	'They won't hit it because they'll fly strictly on their patrol course. We only veered because we'd had experience of the spectrum and were looking for it.'

	'Are you going to tell Cal Lester that it's moved farther in? I mean, that it seemed to have moved farther in on the new Satellite area?'

	Kemlo was thoughtful for a moment or two until they cleared the area and were flying across the void to the distant Satellite Belt K. He replaced the binoculars in the clip as he said slowly:

	'If we're going to tell Cal anything—we've got to tell him the lot. Everything we think and everything we suspect, apart from anything we've seen.'

	Kerowski agreed with this and they chatted about it until they came within the close orbit of the Belt, but from then on Kemlo was busy following Control's instructions to bring the space craft to anchorage below the hub.

	When the craft had been anchored the boys climbed out and made their way toward one of their own entry chutes. The first thing Kemlo did before he and Kerowski went for a shower and a change and food was to send a message to Calvin Lester. They were a little disappointed that they could not speak to him direct, but he was over with Captain Heralgo in the master-ship and would not be back for about an hour.

	They had finished their meal and were busy answering the many questions from their friends when Calvin Lester contacted them and a short while later joined them by arrangement in one of the vacant studies. Kemlo at first was hesitant and even a little nervous, because his enthusiasm and confidence in the theory he had worked out to Kerowski suddenly seemed very weak now that he was face to face with the calm and dominant figure of the charter pilot. It was one thing to declaim a plausible theory in front of a friend, but relaying that theory to a man he knew was among the highest in his profession was not so simple as he had thought it would be.

	But Calvin Lester was quick to sense Kemlo's doubt and immediately encouraged him to talk.

	'You've been thinking a lot about this spectrum business, and so have I,' he said. 'We know that everything's been done to investigate it and officially the matter is closed, but as far as we're concerned—let's admit it—we're still not satisfied. Right?'

	'Too right,' said Kerowski emphatically.

	Kemlo nodded. "That's why I got a bit mixed up when I started to explain just now and sort of dried up,' he admitted. 'It suddenly seemed awfully silly to try and stack up my opinions against those of the experts.'

	'Let's worry about that after we've heard it, shall we?' Calvin said quietly. 'You go ahead and tell me everything you've reasoned out and anything else you've seen out there. We'll decide what to do after you have spoken your piece.'

	Thus encouraged Kemlo wasted no more time. When he had finished relating not only his own theories but also the belief that the spectrum had moved closer in to the area of the new Satellite, Calvin Lester leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk and stared at both boys in turn for a moment or two while they waited a little nervously for him to speak.

	'I'll confess to you boys, although I wouldn't to anyone on the International Commission, that a similar theory was in my mind. I didn't follow it through as carefully as Kemlo has done for the simple reason that my training is against it.'

	'How do you mean—your training is against it?' Kerowski asked bluntly.

	'Well,' Calvin laughed softly. 'It's a rather strange thing, Kerowski; the less knowledge you have, the more imagination plays a part in your reasoning. It is very difficult to absorb a large amount of learning and still retain that early eager imagination.'

	'You mean that my theory is all imagining?' said Kemlo in a disappointed voice.

	'Isn't it?' said Calvin frankly. 'Of course it is, but if it hadn't been for the imagining of Man centuries ago we would not now be sitting in the sky. What I'm trying to say is that my mind refuses to accept the findings of my imagination because my training tells me that no such ray exists. But as you are not quite so highly trained, your imagination made it seem quite feasible.'

	'Well, I'm glad of that, anyway!' Kemlo smiled. 'But what can we do about it, Cal?'

	Calvin eased back in the chair and slammed the flat of his gloved hand gently on the desk top.

	'I'll tell you what we're going to do about it, young fella-me-lad,' he said in a firm and confident voice. 'You two and I are going over to Captain Heralgo. He's a very great man, and I don't mean only his size. He's very intolerant of red tape and lengthy reports and all the mumbo-jumbo the International Commission and their minions love so dearly. Naturally, he knows about the official investigation of my report and has even pulled my leg over it, but at the time I did not pursue the subject with him, and in any case he was extremely busy with other matters. But now I think the time has come for us to confide in the most important man in the new Satellite area. If your theory cannot be proved, no harm has been done except to waste a few moments of a busy man's time.'

	'And if it is proved true?' Kerowski asked quietly.

	Calvin Lester shrugged gently as he rose from his chair.

	'If it is proved true—then this whole project and the lives of everyone concerned in it are in jeopardy,' he replied. 'Possibly your own Satellite Belt and all the rest of the Belts as well. Wait here while I make the necessary arrangements to see Captain Heralgo and get permission for you to go across to the mastership with me.'

	'Will you tell the real reason?' Kemlo asked as Calvin reached the door.

	The charter space pilot turned and they saw his teeth flash behind the vizor. 'Let's not be too foolish,' he said. 'I'll get the permission right enough.' He turned and was gone.

	He must have put on some pretty fierce pressure because in half an hour's time they were all in one of the Satellite Belt space taxis heading for the master-ship. They left the taxi and waited while a gap was released in the wall of holding rays around the master-ship. After passing through the gap quickly they turned and watched it close behind them.

	Knowing that the boys could not enter an air-conditioned ship, Captain Heralgo met them on the exit ramp. He looked like a giant in his space suit—one of the largest men Kemlo and Kerowski had ever seen. His manner was brisk and his voice deep and authoritative; and after introductions and the first pleasantries had been exchanged Calvin Lester, obviously knowing the type of man he had to deal with, plunged straight into his story. Captain Heralgo listened intently, nodding occasionally but not speaking. When Calvin had finished speaking he looked at the boys, then again at the charter pilot. Kemlo and Kerowski watched him anxiously.

	'It's a fantastic story,' said Captain Heralgo at last. 'It is too fantastic to be ignored. We will withdraw the vulnerable charter craft, but replace them with armoured patrols. You two boys had better remain here. Have you any objections?' he almost barked.

	'Yahoo!' Kerowski cried.

	'That means no,' said Kemlo with a satisfied grin.

CHAPTER 10
The Assembly

	Kerowski's sudden yelp of enthusiastic agreement was not in keeping with his normal and sometimes pedantic manner of speaking, and his exclamation served to emphasise the thrill Captain Heralgo's decision gave both boys.

	They knew that after the work of assembly had been started within the area of the new Satellite Belt—that is within the diamond formation of ships—parties of children from all the Belts would be escorted into the area at different stages of the work so that they could see for themselves how the project was progressing. But to be inside the diamond all the time was something many of the boys would have given their ears for.

	'You don't think there'll be trouble in having the boys inside the diamond all the time?' Calvin Lester asked.

	Captain Heralgo's huge shoulders rippled the space suit, showing that he must have given a hearty shrug to his powerful shoulders, for he was wearing the heaviest type of armoured suit, in which most actions were hidden from the onlooker. In fact these suits were so roomy that by setting the joints a man could fix them into a sitting position and, withdrawing his arms and legs, sit and eat a meal, or have a sleep.

	'There's always trouble when you want to do something that is not written in the little book of words.' Captain Heralgo's voice boomed chucklingly through the helmet speaker. 'We get used to that sort of thing. The only important point to my mind is that the boys' parents do not object and that I can assure them these boys will be well looked after. As for the officials—well, I'm an official myself, and right now I'm the most important official in charge of this project. When I say I want a thing done—it will be done. Wait here for a moment.' He turned and re-entered the master-ship.

	'Well, that was a surprise,' said Calvin.

	'Do you think they'll let us stay, Cal?' Kemlo asked eagerly. 'I don't see why not. Your father won't have any objection, will he?'

	'Shouldn't think so, but I expect Mother will be a bit nervous.'

	'Mothers generally are, although I expect you'll be returning to the Belt to sleep, so I don't see that you'll be in any more danger than you would be outside the diamond.'

	'Captain Heralgo's taken it seriously, hasn't he?' said Kerowski. 'Won't it cause some excitement when he withdraws the charter craft patrols and substitutes armoured patrols?'

	'No doubt it will,' Calvin agreed. 'But Captain Heralgo is right when he says he's the most important official on this project. Once his armada reached its orbit in the sky he became king of it all. He works with the technicians on the Belts and maintains constant communication with the International Space Commission on Earth; but otherwise, every major decision is made by him and he takes the full responsibility for it.'

	Kerowski had been gazing around with wondering eyes. There were so many things of interest to see that he didn't know which to look at first. From their position below the great yellow mastership they could see right across the diamond formation, and although the holding rays formed a cloudy canopy above and below the diamond, in the centre all was clear and brilliant.

	At the north or apex of the diamond were the crew ships, and below them, one on each side, the instrument ships. Next came the two lines of cargo ships, and it was from these that the work of assembly was beginning, and the area within the diamond was filled with space-suited figures moving like mechanical dolls against the deep blue of the void.

	Already a number of prefabricated portions of the new Satellite Belt were positioned haphazardly in approximately the centre of the diamond. Crew-men were working at the exit chutes of cargo ships, removing other sections which were then manhandled across the sky toward the centre.

	Calvin and the two boys now gave all their attention to watching this scene while they waited for Captain Heralgo's return.

	'It's quite fantastic, isn't it?' said Calvin after a while. 'Fantastic when you realise that some of those sections the crew-men are moving weigh four or five tons. Special cranes had to be devised to load the cargo ships down at the Bohana base, and all the more heavily loaded ships had to have trebly strong launching boosters.'

	'Gravity pull must be tremendous when you get to weights like four or five tons,' said Kemlo. 'It's a wonder any ship ever gets off the ground.'

	'That was a problem which beat the early space pioneers,' said Calvin. 'They certainly had it hard in those days.'

	'Much harder than you do now?' Kerowski asked.

	'In many ways, yes. Even getting an empty rocket off the ground was a problem for them. By empty, I mean a rocket containing only instruments. Of course, in those days no one had devised the pellets of urania which now power space ships; but soon, perhaps even that will be improved upon by the same type of unit we have in the charter craft. But in the old days, the higher they wanted a ship to go, the more tons of fuel were needed.'

	'They used three-stage motors at one time, didn't they?' said Kemlo. 'One sent the rocket ship off the ground, then that dropped off and the second motor took over until its fuel was exhausted; then the third motor was released as the ship hit free flight. It must have been a shocking waste of weight.'

	'Undoubtedly it was,' Calvin agreed. 'But without those early efforts we shouldn't have reached the stage we have today. Some of those earlier ships were colossal things, but almost three-quarters of them were made up of fuel tanks and motors. But when the power unit driven by self-generating pellets of urania was devised, the thing suddenly became simple and we could have a ship even larger than the old-time ones, including their great detachable motors. Sometimes you wonder how clever we can get before you realise there is no end to it all.'

	'You mean there's no end to how far space flight can develop?' Kemlo asked, turning to glance at the master-ship as he saw Captain Heralgo emerge with another space-suited figure.

	'Any form of space progress—if I can use that word,' Calvin replied. 'You both were on that expedition to the Moon, weren't you?'

	'We were,' said Kemlo, and shuddered a little.

	'Not good, eh?' Calvin asked, noticing the shudder.

	'It was wonderful really,' Kemlo replied thoughtfully, 'but it gave me nightmares after we got back. It was all so grim and dead. Why do you ask about the Moon?'

	'Only that there seems a level chance someone will colonise the Moon before very long.' Calvin waved an arm in an all-embracing gesture. 'All this is another step toward it. Everything we learn from a project like this means that we progress one more step or maybe a dozen more steps toward everyday contact with other planets. Nothing now is impossible; it never has been really.'

	'What's the next step after this Satellite Belt has been completed?' Kerowski asked. 'More Satellite Belts?'

	'No, not for a long time. I've no real information on the subject, but my guess is that the next step will have to be a transport depot—maybe fifty thousand miles from here.'

	'A transport depot!' Kemlo exclaimed.

	'Don't sound so surprised,' Calvin chuckled. 'It's the logical thing. We should need a huge transport depot fully manned by technicians, crew-men, service engineers—the whole works, including repair and assembly plants, reserve ships, fuel supplies, stores; everything to maintain a constant flight of ships without our having to return to Earth every time.'

	'The Satellite Belts do a fair amount of servicing and carry stores,' said Kemlo.

	'Yes, they're pretty wonderful, but they're nowhere on the scale we'd need. A transport depot is the answer.' Calvin looked up and added: 'Here is Captain Heralgo.'

	'Finding it interesting?' Captain Heralgo asked as he joined them and placed a gloved hand on both boys' shoulders.

	'Yes, wonderfully, sir,' Kemlo replied.

	'A superabundance of eye-absorbing details,' said Kerowski, recovering some of his pompousness.

	'Well, well, so you find it eye-absorbing, do you?' Captain Heralgo's deep voice held laughter. 'That's a fair explanation, anyway.'

	'May we stay, sir?' Kemlo blurted out, unable to restrain hi eagerness.

	'You may stay. I told your father that you and Kerowski had shown a marked aptitude for certain work I wanted done but for which I couldn't spare any of my crew-men. That really was no lie, although I wouldn't call it the unvarnished truth. Now, there are one or two things I want to mention to you before I hand you over to my good friend Sergeant Cassidy. He is my personnel sergeant and a little older than the other technical and discipline sergeants, but he's a fine man and a good space-man. I shall take him into my confidence regarding this spectrum affair, and he will be the only other man to know until we are ready either to forget it or to explain it further to those in authority. Do you understand what I mean by that?'

	'You mean that only you and Captain Lester and your Sergeant Cassidy and we two will be able to talk about it?' said Kemlo.

	'That is correct. There are several reasons why I have invited you boys to stay within the diamond and return to your Belt under escort only for sleeping. You have seen and experienced this spectrum. You have studied its formation closely. I have certain plans to discover more about it, and when those plans are put into operation I want to be able to contact you at once and see if what we discover ties up with your own discoveries and theories. You will realise that we can all look pretty foolish, which is one good reason for not telling more people than we need at present.'

	'We understand that, sir,' said Kerowski, 'but if Kemlo's theory is proved, then a lot of people won't be so quick to laugh, will they?'

	'They will not,' Captain Heralgo agreed firmly. 'And there are other reasons why you must not whisper this possible and, I admit, somewhat fantastic danger to anyone but those we have mentioned.' He pointed toward the centre of the diamond-shaped area. 'Those are my men moving about the sky like a lot of jimmy o' goblins. But each impersonal-looking space-suited figure is a man, an Earth-man, and a more intricate piece of machinery than any of the instruments contained in the ships, or even the ships themselves. All those are mechanical, even though some of the machines are faster than the human brain, but they have no emotions.'

	'What do you mean by emotion, sir?' Kemlo asked, his voice polite.

	'We are Earth-men and we cannot forget that, nor do we wish to. We are all trained in space work, but we are human and we get headaches, tummyaches; we feel lonely and afraid, joyful or angry. Also, we are out of our natural element, which is the Earth. All my men are courageous and fit and highly intelligent, but they can get lonely and depressed in this strange and arduous work up here in the sky.

	'There will be times when they will wish they were back with their loved ones, and there will be times when they will feel ill or suddenly afraid of the immensity of the space around them which makes them feel puny and vulnerable. If at one of those times they hear a rumour of some fantastic danger no one seems able to define yet, it might not be long before panic were to spread. Or, at best, if not panic then uncertainty, fear, and a consequent slowing down or failing in the work which has to be done. There is too much at stake to risk that fine human balance being disturbed, and a most important part of my job is to make sure that every man under me is fit and well and as happy as can be expected in the circumstances. Do you understand all this grown-up talk?'

	Both boys nodded earnestly. 'I think so, sir,' said Kemlo.

	'It's something I hadn't thought much about before now,' Kerowski added. 'When you see a great project like this, it's easy to forget that it's human beings who are going to make it possible.'

	'Those are very wise words,' said Captain Heralgo gravely. 'And now we have had our little talk. Captain Lester has work to do, and so have I, so I'm going to call Sergeant Cassidy and hand you over to him.' Captain Heralgo adjusted the control on his space suit which cut off the helmet speaker. The boys could see his lips moving behind the vizor and they turned as Calvin pointed beyond them.

	'Sergeant Cassidy is coming now,' he said.

	They watched the lone space-suited figure leave a group of men working near one of the cargo ships and make his way toward them.

	When he came up to them Captain Heralgo took him on one side, and for a few moments spoke in a low voice which the boys could not hear other than as a muttering sort of buzz from the helmet speaker. Then the two men turned and came toward the boys. Introductions were made, and in a few moments Calvin Lester and Captain Heralgo entered the master-ship, leaving Kemlo and Kerowski with Sergeant Cassidy.

	' 'Tis a weird and fanciful story I heard,' said the sergeant. 'But then, did not me own darlin' grandmother claim that all this was fanciful nonsense? You find the assembly work interesting?'

	'We certainly do,' they agreed, and Kemlo asked: 'Could wt help, do you think, Sergeant?'

	'Why not? You're young and healthy and you're space-boys, and I'm sure there's many a crew-man will get a great kick out of talking with you. This is the assembly and they've been training years for it. 'Tis right you should help them. Come with me.'

CHAPTER 11
Danger Sign

	So began a period of such absorbing interest that Kemlo and Kerowski scarcely had time to remember the reason why they were now a part of Captain Heralgo's organisation. Their reception by the crew-men was very cordial, although several times they had difficulty in answering direct questions as to why they were the only space-boys allowed within the diamond formation. They countered these questions by saying that they were not quite sure themselves, but that probably the other boys would be taking their turns later on.

	Only when they returned to the Belt to sleep did the boys really remember the menace of the spectrum and wonder if the armoured patrols would have anything to report. Over a week had passed since Captain Heralgo had replaced the charter craft with armoured patrols, and it was then that Sergeant Cassidy told them of a further change in these orders.

	'The captain has been using armoured reccy craft for the job,' he said. 'But not a sign of the spectrum or any obstruction have they seen or felt. 'Twas believed that the reccy craft would not set up much more flight impulse than the charter craft, but it seems that they do.'

	'That's awkward,' said Kerowski. 'It means that you'll never see the spectrum because it won't appear if there's any flight impulse in the area.'

	'True enough,' Sergeant Cassidy agreed, 'and so the captain has had to call for volunteers for what might be a dangerous mission. They're wearing armoured space suits and carrying enough guns to shoot down half this armada, so perhaps we'll be getting somewhere soon. In the meantime, me darlin's, how are things with you?'

	'Fine,' said Kemlo. 'We've been helping get the turrets of the hub into position.'

	'So you're both good and happy, eh?'

	'Of course we are,' said Kerowski. 'Why shouldn't we be?'

	'No reason at all,' the sergeant replied airily. 'I'm a worrier; that's why they made me personnel sergeant. It's happiness that counts highest with me. If a man's happy, there's not much wrong with him, nor likely to be. You go back to helping the crew-men and technicians—and mind what you say to them and don't be getting saucy.'

	'We won't,' Kemlo promised. 'You can stop worrying about us.'

	'I'm the one who decides when to stop worrying,' said Sergeant Cassidy with a chuckle. 'Be off with you now. The captain will send for you when he needs you. But make the most of this because there'll not be another Belt built in this sky for many a year.'

	So Kemlo and Kerowski went back to helping the crew-men and were soon again immersed in the absorbing task of assembly.

	A Satellite Belt is not unlike a large wheel in appearance. It has a hub; a quite massive object comprising the main circular section in which are the entry and exit cages, and a dome-shaped movable turret top and bottom. The hub is the control centre of the Belt; the turrets are mainly observation quarters containing all the instruments known to science for observing the Universe and recording their findings. From the turrets sprout the antennae and the hair-line coils which pick up electronic impulses over vast distances.

	When lying in pieces in the sky awaiting the work of connecting up to begin, the hub looked like a gigantic ball perforated with holes; four around it and one top and bottom. Into the last named holes would fit the turrets, and into the four larger holes would be welded the four spokes of the Belt.

	The spokes came up from Earth in several sections, for they were long and deep and provided not only accommodation for offices and passageways to and from the control hub but also would be used for the storage of huge deep-freeze compartments, refrigerators, air-conditioning plants, waste converters and the self-generating power plant which, once the Belt was set in motion to keep it spinning within the orbit of Earth, would constantly recharge itself.

	Lastly came the rim of the wheel-like Belt. This was carried in many sections, but by ingenious devices, which allowed certain sections to be telescoped one into the other, the amount of space normally taken up in the cargo ships in the early days for one section of the rim was, by this method, now used to carry three.

	The work of assembling all the prefabricated sections of the Belt into an irregular pattern in the sky was in its last stages, and Kemlo and Kerowski were helping to move sections of the rim from cargo ships into the position of a rather ragged circle around the scattered sections of the hub and spokes.

	It all looked like a very hopeless jigsaw puzzle with pieces of this monstrous man-made machine floating about in the sky and looking, to the inexperienced eye, as if they never had belonged nor would belong anywhere.

	This was a difficult time in the work of assembly because unattached objects in space tend to float in a rather haphazard fashion. All the crew-men, engineers and technicians wore wide magnetic belts to which were attached their tools, for although a man could leave his tools resting in the sky close to his hand, it was always possible that he would float some distance away, or else the tool would do so, and much time would be lost in climbing about after it. The only tools needed to date had been those which the engineers used to separate the telescoped portions of the rim.

	Kemlo and Kerowski had a lot of fun in helping with this work because as the telescoped sections were removed and extended to their proper shape the boys could move about inside the various sections which, of course, were empty of furnishings and domestic fittings. The cargo ships would return to Earth for these when the Belt was nearly constructed, and by the time it was ready they would be back with their loads of furniture and stores. From then on there would be a steady procession of cargo ships to and from Earth bringing material and goods to fit out this new Satellite Belt ready for occupation.

	But every section brought up from Earth in this armada was complete in so far as instruments and plant and all the multitude of electronic and other equipment was concerned.

	Having been born on a Satellite Belt and instructed in how it worked and what it contained, the boys were especially interested in seeing the rim in sections, for it contained a veritable maze of tubes, wires and junction points. Both the inner and outer sides of the rim were broken at frequent intervals by exit and entry chutes and long anti-solar penetration windows. On the top, the rim was again broken by hatchways, through which occupants of the Belt could climb on to observation platforms and promenade decks.

	There was a feeling of great satisfaction among the crews when the last of the prefabricated sections of the rim was taken from the last cargo ship and Captain Heralgo ordered an eight-hour break for every man, commencing eight hours after the last tour of duty had finished. This was necessary so that everyone should get a complete break as the crew-men had been working around the clock in eight-hour shifts, and there had been one or two cases of space-suit fatigue coupled with the normal depressive reaction some Earth-men felt after spending a few days in space. All these cases were taken care of in the hospital ship. The only men who did not have a complete break were those attached to the security ship; even so they were able to arrange their relief so that they all got the maximum of rest.

	After all the bustle and activity of the past days it was strange to stand on the exit chute ramp of the master-ship and gaze out over the diamond-shaped area which now contained the whole jigsaw puzzle of the new Satellite Belt and see not more than three or four space-suited figures moving among it. All the crews except the few security patrols and their less fortunate colleagues in the patrol craft outside the diamond were now sealed up in their snips, relaxing in whatever way appealed to them most. Some held singsongs, or miniature boxing and games tournaments in the now empty cargo holds. Some set up card games and other diversions. Some read or played instruments, some sat and argued or wrote letters, while a few preferred to sleep.

	Alcohol was forbidden in space ships so naturally there were no uproarious celebrations. Smoking was allowed in certain sections of the ship, but was limited according to the air-conditioning pressure, and this made for caution even in those who were heavy smokers. For the Earth-man there is no replacement of air from space and if his gauges show the air-conditioning plant to be reaching maximum no one risks another cigarette or pipe until the gauges show a wide margin of reserve.

	Kemlo and Kerowski had returned to the Belt at the start of this rest period. Kemlo spent much of the time with his parents while Kerowski, in one of his moods of wanting to be alone, shut himself up in a study.

	When the period was over the two boys climbed into the charter craft and set off again for the diamond formation, and as they neared the area they kept the binoculars to their eyes. This now had become a matter of habit; but their confidence was becoming shaken because they had not again sighted the spectrum.

	'Let's swing wide and come in from the other side of the master-ship,' Kerowski suggested. 'Perhaps we're not far enough up the space lanes?'

	'We wouldn't see it from the chart,' Kemlo reminded him. 'But we'll have a quick flip over there, anyway.'

	'Jeff's on Control duty now. I checked before we left the Belt.' Kerowski chuckled. 'He won't be so quick to call us in if we're a few seconds off-course.'

	The craft zoomed away under Kemlo's expert guidance and the boys searched the area carefully with their infra-red binoculars. Suddenly they both exclaimed at the same time: 'There it is!'

	'Can you see any sign of the patrol craft?' Kemlo asked. 'No. Can you from your side?

	'We're too far over and they might be right up the north end of the patrol.' Kemlo leaned forward in the seat and studied the zigzag line of colour more intently.

	'We'd better get back,' Kerowski urged him. 'We can tell Control why we're out here and they'll come through any minute.' Even as he spoke the warning buzzer sounded and Jeff's head and shoulders appeared in the screen.

	'You're off-course,' he announced. 'And you're also reporting for duty. There'll be plenty of time later for joy rides. Now get back on-course, there's good lads.'

	'All right, Jeff,' said Kerowski. 'We're turning right now.'

	'See that you do.' Jeff grinned and winked at them before the screen went dark.

	'Take over the controls while I check that chart,' said Kemlo, setting the binoculars back in their clip.

	Kerowski slid into the seat as Kemlo eased out of it. As the craft headed on-course toward the master-ship, Kerowski said:

	'Now what?'

	'I don't know,' Kemlo was studying the chart intently. 'No, I don't know, Krow—but something's wrong. That spectrum is at least twelve degrees closer than it was before.'

	'Don't be daft! How can it move?'

	'How can it get there in the first place, dope?' Kemlo retorted sharply. 'Now shut up for a minute or two while I check again.' He look a pair of calipers from the instrument kit and measured the degrees carefully. At last he replaced them in the instrument kit and leaned back. 'I'm right,' he announced. 'It is twelve degrees closer in.' As they were within sight of the master-ship he leaned over and manipulated the controls.

	'Master-ship to charter craft,' said the voice of the operator over the beam speaker. 'The holding rays will be opened for you at readings of seven over one-forty. You should have those readings, though. Anything wrong?'

	'No, sir,' Kemlo replied. 'But it's rather urgent that we see Captain Heralgo as soon as possible. Is he in the ship now?'

	'Just a minute and I'll check. If he is, I'll give him your message.'

	After a while the calling signal came again and the operator's voice said:

	'Captain Heralgo says he will meet you on the exit ramp of this ship. Bring your craft to that point. Over and out.'

	The huge figure of Captain Heralgo was waiting for them on the ramp of the master-ship as Kemlo slid the charter craft alongside it. Kemlo wasted no time in telling him of their discovery.

	'My security patrols have reported it,' the captain said. 'I was going to send for you immediately you arrived, anyway. They didn't mention its being twelve degrees closer in, but then it's reasonable to suppose they wouldn't know the readings in the first place.' He tweaked Kerowski's ear as he said: 'Move over, son, I'm coming in.'

	They had opened the canopy as they passed through the rays and Captain Heralgo now eased his bulk into the control seat. As he slid the craft away from the master-ship in a wide arc he said:

	'Call my operator; tell him to keep a constant watch on the rays at seven over on-forty. I'm going out now and might want to come back in a hurry.'

	Kemlo had hardly completed relaying this message to the master-ship's Control operator when they cleared the gap in the holding rays, which closed behind them.

	Kemlo could not see Captain Heralgo's expression very clearly for the solar vizor on this type of space suit is extremely dark, but he sensed an urgency of purpose in the big man's attitude and glanced at Kerowski to warn him to keep quiet. This was no time for chatter or questions. They had made their report and the captain was acting upon it.

	When they reached the area beyond the space lanes, Captain Heralgo used the infra-red binoculars and studied the section for a long time. Then he turned in his seat and gazed intently at the lighted chart frame.

	'Twelve degrees is right,' he announced, 'but it's nearer fifteen farther along.'

	'You can see it, sir, can't you?' Kemlo asked eagerly.

	'I can see it right enough. Why should it be zigzag instead of a straight or curving line?' He was speaking more to himself in a puzzled sort of voice so Kemlo didn't answer. 'But the spectrum is there,' Captain Heralgo went on. 'It's not imagination and it must be man-made. All your reasoning is right up to now, Kemlo, but what instrument can project a zigzag pattern such as that? A very uniform zigzag, too, with clearly defined points, not just a sort of squiggly line.' He passed the binoculars to Kemlo and said: 'Keep your eye on it, son. I'm going up north to look for my boys in the patrol craft.'

	He sent the space craft forward at a furious speed.

	'You'll hit the spectrum, sir!' Kemlo cried warningly, but the speed was faster than the mind could think or words could be formed. The hull of the craft swung up and, despite the efficiency of the gyroscopes, they all felt the shudder of the impact.

	Captain Heralgo throttled back and grabbed the binoculars from Kemlo.

	'Ye gods!' he exclaimed. 'We bounced off it! It's much closer in. In fact it's almost across the lane.' Again he surveyed the spectrum carefully. 'It's just about the depth of our holding rays,' he said. 'I'm going to climb above it.' He opened up the induction again and the hull canted sharply upward. In a few seconds Kerowski, who had grabbed the other pair of binoculars, cried:

	'We're clear of it now, sir!'

	'Fantastic!' Captain Heralgo muttered after they had flown for some distance. 'Never seen anything like it. And it's closer in the farther north we go.'

	As both Captain Heralgo and Kerowski were using the binoculars Kemlo naturally couldn't see anything of the spectrum, and he was peering ahead and downward whereas the other two were looking backward over the side of the craft. Far ahead lie saw a tiny dark object and a sudden fear came to him.

	'Up ahead, sir!' he cried. 'The patrol's in trouble by the look of it.'

	Captain Heralgo swung around in his seat, keeping the binoculars to his eyes.

	'They're caught,' he said in a husky voice. 'The spectrum's moved in and crushed them between it and our holding rays.' He shot the charter craft forward and in a few seconds they were close enough to see that the patrol craft was crushed and buckled as if it were no more than an empty tin can crushed between the jaws of a slowly tightened vice.

CHAPTER 12
Speed and Fury

	Captain Heralgo slowed the craft, slid back the canopy and released the holding rays long enough for him to climb out. As the rays closed behind him he snapped an order.

	'Stay where you are—don't leave the craft. Contact my Control and tell them to find Captain Lester and have him report here at once. Give our readings. Can I trust you to do that without mentioning—this?' He jerked his gloved hand in the direction of the crushed patrol craft.

	'Yes, sir,' said Kemlo confidently. 'Couldn't one of us help you with your men in the wreck?'

	'No one can help them by the look of it,' Captain Heralgo replied harshly. 'That craft is crushed flat. Stay here and do as you're told.' His huge figure turned away and began moving across the blue void with the long balanced strides of the well trained space-man.

	Kemlo and Kerowski contacted Control and passed on Captain Heralgo's orders. The operator was a trifle curious, but Kemlo played dumb and said that he was only following the captain's instructions and didn't know what the hurry was, anyway.

	'I'm getting fed up with having to tell lies to people,' said Kemlo as the screen went dark and the contact had broken. 'I suppose grown-ups have to do an awful lot of it?'

	'You have to think what would happen if you'd told the operator that Calvin Lester was wanted because the security patrol ship had been smashed up. A little thing like that can cause panic'

	'A little thing!' Kemlo exclaimed.

	'I didn't mean that.' Kerowski indicated the smashed craft ahead of them. 'I meant, letting the news leak out before Captain Heralgo had decided what was the best to say about it.'

	'What can he say?' Kemlo laughed harshly. 'What can anyone say about it? That a small but powerful patrol ship was crushed between a spectrum and our own holding rays as if it were no stronger than a plastic drinking cup?' He took the binoculars and studied the scene for a few moments. 'The spectrum is not quite on to that wreck now, but you can see by the way it curves in beyond the ship that it has been closer. It's a terrible weapon, Krow,' he said sombrely. 'We'll have to find out what it is, or else the new Satellite Belt is doomed.'

	'Don't panic,' said Kerowski sharply. 'A thing like that couldn't happen to those great ships, or to the Satellite Belt when it's assembled.'

	'I'm not panicking,' Kemlo protested. 'Use your brain—of course it could happen. This spectrum is a solid force and must be every bit as powerful as our holding rays. The patrol craft was crushed against its own rays.'

	'Of course they wouldn't give—that's what they're designed for.'

	'Well, then? If they won't give and the spectrum won't give, what happens to anything caught between them?'

	'It doesn't seem possible that a ship the size of the master-ship, for instance, could be crushed like that.'

	'The holding rays will withstand a hurtling meteor or a full force shower of cosmic rays. They'll withstand a bombardment by ray guns, and if you try and get past them without giving the Control engineer a reading as to where you're going to enter, then you won't get through—it's been tried.'

	Kerowski looked searchingly at his friend and sighed gently.

	'All right, Kem,' he said quietly. 'That mind of yours has got some ideas, so let's hear them. It'll take my thoughts off those poor devils in that patrol craft, anyway.'

	'Mine, too.' Kemlo gripped his friend's shoulder in sympathy. 'It doesn't bear thinking about. But now this has happened, it does prove that at least part of my theory was right. I wish it hadn't been proved, but it has and there's nothing I can do about it. But what will happen if this spectrum closes in on each side of the diamond until it crossed the space lanes each side and presses right on to the holding rays?'

	'That's difficult to say. It would be a sort of struggle between the two forces, I suppose—whether the force of the spectrum is stronger than the resistance of the holding rays. It's a bit too fantastic for me to follow.'

	'I'm only groping,' Kemlo admitted, 'but there must be some reason why that spectrum is jagged for most of its length and why it curves around at the top. Supposing it moves in more and more until it crushes against the holding rays? Wouldn't it force the ships closer in undl they jammed up against the Satellite Belt, once we've got it assembled?'

	'But Captain Heralgo and all the technicians wouldn't be just sitting there doing nothing while that was happening,' Kerowski protested.

	'What if they couldn't do anything except release the base of the holding rays and let the ships fly down below the area of force, just as we've climbed above it? They'd have the choice of the ships crushing the Satellite Belt to pieces and being crushed themselves, or flying clear of it.'

	'Great sizzling meteors, Kem!' Kerowski exclaimed. 'That's a horrible picture!'

	'Could be true, though,' Kemlo replied grimly. 'They'd be faced with a smash up of ships and the Belt or, by releasing the base of their holding rays, they'd have to allow the ships to drop down and fly free of the area. That would leave only the Belt's holding rays generated around its area and the whole thing would be surrounded by this spectrum. Nothing could get into the Satellite Belt and eventually what few technicians were left there would die of starvation. Once the Belt was left without anyone to keep the machines and instruments working properly, the holding rays would fail.'

	'Stop it, Kem! Stop it!' Kerowski pleaded. 'You're only imagining that. You've got too vivid an imagination.'

	'Perhaps,' said Kemlo. 'I'm sorry. I expect this smash up has upset me as well.' He glanced at the radar screen and adjusted the controls to a finer pitch. 'Something's coming,' he announced. 'Cut your viewing screen in and let's see if we can pick him up.'

	'It's probably Calvin Lester.'

	And in a few moments they saw that it was the charter space pilot. They watched his craft approaching from some distance, saw it slow and swerve, then zoom away and climb sharply, straighten out and head toward them.

	'He's found the spectrum,' said Kemlo. 'He's doing what Captain Heralgo did.'

	Soon Calvin Lester slid his craft alongside theirs, but he had hardly waved to them when he saw the distant figure of Captain Heralgo, who now had reached the crushed ship. In a flash he sent his own craft hurtling forward.

	After a time the boys could see that three inert space-suited figures were being pulled from the wreck and attached by their magnetic belts to the hull of Calvin Lester's craft. This returned toward the boys with Captain Heralgo holding on the side. The charter pilot went straight off without more than a half-salute to the boys and Captain Heralgo climbed back into the craft.

	'Were they all?' Kemlo began hesitantly.

	'They were all dead,' said Captain Heralgo in a grim voice. 'They didn't have a chance. Not one chance.' He turned and looked at Kemlo and Kerowski. 'In a way you started this,' he said, speaking slowly and distinctly. 'I expect you're feeling pretty bad about it, eh?'

	They nodded dumbly and Kemlo could feel hot tears in his eyes, for suddenly death had made the previous excitement into something desperately grim.

	'You mustn't feel bad about it,' said Captain Heralgo encouragingly. 'You must think and remember that if more people had taken more notice of you and not treated your earlier stories quite so lightly, this might never have happened. As it is, your common sense and honesty in risking the ridicule by reporting further incidents to Calvin Lester and myself may well have saved the whole armada. I'm going to keep you boys with me, because you are the only people who have really followed this to a logical conclusion, even though you haven't been able to prove it.' He laughed grimly. 'Although there's proof enough now.'

	'What can be done about it, sir?' Kemlo asked.

	'You don't want to hear any balderdash from me, do you?' said Captain Heralgo in his gruff and plain spoken way. 'So I'll tell you the truth and say that right now—I don't know. But we're going back to my ship and I'll wager that in less than an hour a lot of people arc going to have red faces and burning ears.'

	Captain Heralgo sent the craft spinning around and headed it toward the south of the diamond. 'You see, boys,' he continued when the craft was flying steadily, 'we have a large organisation on Earth. It's called the International Space Commission for the Research and Furtherance of Space Travel and Control.'

	'What a mouthful!' Kerowski exclaimed.

	'Exactly,' the captain replied angrily. 'The sort of mouthful beloved of bureaucrats. And if you don't know what that word means, you'll soon find out when you grow up. But, anyway, we cut the title down to International Commission and mostly, between ourselves, we refer to it as just the I.C. In the early days of space exploration it was composed of men who were thought fanatics. They lived only for the ideal of space conquest. Often they died for it. Then when many of their dreams came true, the I.C. started to expand until it became a vast government department. It became filled with politicians and civil servants and pompous officials who outnumbered and controlled the experts and technicians. Pretty soon we chaps couldn't make notes of ideas without submitting about fourteen copies of them to various departments.

	'It works moderately well, but it's slow and cumbersome, and to get a decision about anything takes months. I'm telling you all this to explain why any report out of the ordinary gets handled badly.'

	'Like ours and Captain Lester's?' Kerowski suggested.

	'The most significant example of any,' Captain Heralgo agreed. 'When the report was made officially it had to be done on the proper forms and sent to the appropriate department. That department dispatched the research ships, who had to report negative results.'

	'But they didn't take very long to start moving,' said Kemlo.

	Captain Heralgo grunted. 'They took twenty-two hours when they should have taken an hour,' he replied. 'The research ships are in constant readiness with crews standing by for twenty-four hours a day. All they had to do was to climb into the ships and set off. As far as I.C. were concerned that finished the business, despite the fact that the captain of each ship declared he was not satisfied. They were real space-men not chair-polishers and they knew that if another space-man had reported something unusual, there must be something to it. But they couldn't prove why they weren't satisfied.' Captain Heralgo's voice became sarcastic. 'So, because they couldn't complete the right form and sign the correct certificate, the report was filed as "Negative result. No further action."'

	'But they'll have to take action now you have sent a report, won't they, sir?' Kemlo asked.

	'It's gone beyond a question of reports, son. Captain Heralgo doesn't deal with the office boy—he goes straight to the Minister; the man in complete charge. Or at least he's supposed to be, but he doesn't know what goes on half the time. I'm more than a thousand miles up in space and trusted with the project of building a new Satellite Belt. If I say I want action, I shall get action and I shan't waste time filling in forms.' He slowed the craft as they came close to the holding rays and waited for the gap to open before he shot the craft through and slid it to a halt outside the master-ship. He neutralised the controls, turned and looked in the boys' direction, and chuckled as he said:

	'I really should apologise to you for talking like that. All that I.C. mumbo-jumbo doesn't really concern you, and thank goodness it doesn't,' he added fervently. 'If you were brought up to sign a form every time you had a fresh thought, we shouldn't have got as far as we have in this spectrum problem. I was just blowing off steam.' He slid back the canopy and eased his huge bulk over the side of the craft, pausing for a moment to add: 'And now I'm going to let off some more steam, but in the right direction this time. When I've done that, I'll contact your folks on Belt K to give them a personal report because you'll be staying over here for a time. When Captain Lester gets back, ask him to wait here with you, will you?'

	'Yes, sir. Is there anything we can be doing while we're waiting?' Kemlo asked, glancing toward the centre of the area where the work of assembling was now proceeding apace.

	Captain Heralgo noticed this glance.

	'You're eager to get out there and help the boys, eh?' he said in a kindly voice. 'Just wait until Captain Lester comes, but if he doesn't want you, you can run along and give a hand.'

	When Captain Heralgo had entered the master-ship, Kemlo and Kerowski climbed from the craft and walked around, watching the work going on in the distance. Calvin Lester joined them after a while and they went to meet him as he climbed from his craft.

	'I'll go straight into the ship and see the captain,' Calvin said after they had told him the message. 'I want to have a talk with you boys, but I'd sooner see the captain first. Will you wait a while?'

	'We'll wait,' said Kemlo, realising this wasn't the time to pester either of the captains with requests that he and Kerowski be allowed to join the crew-men on the assembly.

	'That's us,' Kerowski sighed as he watched Calvin disappear into the master-ship. 'Just waiters, that's what we are.'

	"They're starting to weld the hub,' said Kemlo. 'Wish we were over there. That new method of welding is really something, and this is our only chance of actually seeing it on a proper job and not in the school's technical shop.'

	'There's a big difference in learning a new welding process on a little-bitty model and seeing it done on the real thing,' Kerowski agreed.

	The two boys went on talking about these technical details, both trying to make it all sound as if they were intensely enthusiastic. They certainly were interested and very keen to see this work and help if possible, but in truth they both wanted to forger the horror of the crushed patrol ship and the three lifeless, mangled figures of its crew being flown by Calvin Lester to the hospital ship. Knowledge of death in space was not strange to either of them and both had experienced the horror of seeing a ship explode. Both had seen the figures of space-suited Earth-men riddled by cosmic rays and had witnessed blinding from solar penetration. These were terrible things to have knowledge of, but were a no greater shock than a road accident or similar event would be to an Earth-boy. They knew the hazards of space and from a very early age had learned thoroughly how to use the means of protection provided for them. But there was something very different about the crushing of this patrol craft. It had seemed so deliberate, so cold-blooded, and so unbelievable.

	When Calvin rejoined them the boys greeted him eagerly.

	'What's happening, Cal?'

	'Is Captain Heralgo burning up those bods at the I.C.?' The pilot grabbed their hair with gloved hands and shook them gently.

	'You can almost smell the scorching from here,' he said. 'I gather that the captain has made a few pointed remarks about the I.C. in front of you lads.'

	'Just a few,' Kemlo admitted with a grin.

	'I suppose we shouldn't air our opinions in front of you, but you can't really blame us.' Calvin dropped his hands to his sides and Kemlo noticed that another ray gun was attached to the broad magnetic belt.

	'You're expecting trouble, aren't you, Cal?' he said quietly, pointing to the extra gun.

	'That's just the first order.' Calvin patted the gun butt gently.

	'We'll all be carrying two of these—just in case.'

	'In case of what?' Kerowski inquired.

	'In case we sight the people who are projecting that crushing ray.' He glanced at Kemlo. 'You could be right, you know—in fact, it's the only logical answer.'

	'You mean that the spectrum could be drawn in to crush the ships and make them drop out of formation, leaving the Belt exposed?'

	'You couldn't put it more simply. But I think we've caught it in time. The captain's working with a speed and fury the like of which I've never seen before, and I know him pretty well. In a few hours we'll have monitor ships at every strategic angle outside the diamond formation, and they'll carry a battery of firepower that will blast anything out of the sky.'

	'They won't if that spectrum closes in and crushes them as it did the patrol ship,' said Kerowski.

	'We're going to make sure that doesn't happen, but even if it does, there won't be any men in the ships—they'll all be controlled from panels set up just above here.'

	'Perhaps we're going to see some fun,' said Kerowski.

	'Fun!' Calvin exclaimed. 'Well, I suppose at your age it may seem to be fun. But we've got a plan to use all you space-boys and the work you'll have to do won't be like fun, believe me!'

CHAPTER 13
Work and Fight

	'Work?' Kerowski queried in a cautious manner. 'What sort of work?'

	Calvin laughed. 'Don't you like work?'

	Kerowski shrugged. 'I like it well enough, but it doesn't like me.'

	'You mean that if you're doing something you really enjoy, then it's not work?'

	'Something like that.'

	'How about working on the joining up of the Belt sections?'

	'Ah!' said Kerowski, rubbing his hands. 'That's different!'

	'I thought it might be,' said Calvin drily. 'It's too early yet to say which we're going to get most of—working or fighting. It's for certain we have the work to do, but. ..' He shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.

	'You mean that if the monitor ships can't keep that spectrum away we're going to have to fight?' Kemlo asked.

	'We don't know, Kemlo,' was the serious reply. 'You two have reasoned this thing out and at present, although we can prove nothing, it does seem logical that your reasoning could be right. If it is, there must be forces at work behind that fantastic spectrum thing which can mean we shall all have to fight. The future of not only this new Satellite Belt but of the whole world of Earth's Satellites can be at stake. If this spectrum is a force controlled by human hands and minds, and it succeeds in getting control of the new Belt, there's nothing to stop it getting control of the others.' He laughed grimly as he added: "This is the march of progress. For many years it was expected there might be attacks upon the Satellite Belts, but always we considered the holding rays and magnetic shields sufficient protection against bombardment by rays and electronic war-heads. No one ever thought of devising something which might crush all protection and seal off a Satellite Belt without a shot being fired by anybody. It would be just slow starvation of the occupants of the Belt, because we on Earth couldn't reach them and they couldn't reach us.'

	'New weapons for a new age,' said Kerowski with that flash of wisdom he sometimes displayed in his remarks. 'But at least Captain Heralgo is doing something practical to fight it instead of just sending reports.'

	'You can leave that to the captain,' said Calvin. 'If he says he wants speed, he'll get speed. And if he says we work and fight, then we do just that. It'll take more than a skyful of fantastic phenomena to stop Captain Heralgo from building this Satellite. I've told him I don't agree with all his immediate plans, but I'm cautious by nature, whereas the captain is a man of great vision and action.'

	'What don't you agree with?' Kemlo asked.

	'You boys, for one thing. The captain is going to use you older boys in the technical grades who are Space Scouts to assist in the work so as to leave a number of the crew-men free to fight if necessary. Extra men are being sent up in the monitor ships, but there's a limit to how many Earth-men we can use. The organisation necessary to maintain larger numbers of crews than was originally planned is quite immense. It involves extra stores, reserves of space suits and equipment, and a host of other details. Captain Heralgo takes the view that if this project fails because of the spectrum danger, which he now counts as very real, perhaps similar attacks will be made on the other Satellite Holts and you boys will be involved, anyway. That's the view he was putting to the Elders of the Belts when I left him.'

	'Who was winning?' Kerowski asked with a grin.

	'I should say that the score was even when I left. I have no doubt the matter is decided by now. The captain doesn't stand for much argument, and when he gets a point of view he keeps to it.'

	'Does this mean we're going to have the boys from the other Belts as well?' Kemlo asked. 'It does.'

	Kemlo looked at Kerowski and their faces became glum. 'Oh!' they said in disappointed chorus.

	'You wanted to be the big fish, didn't you?' said Calvin with a laugh. 'Well, you will be, because Captain Heralgo will put you in charge of them. Kemlo, being a Captain of Space Scouts, will work with the other captains. And when I say work—if you haven't learned the meaning of it by now, you are about to be enlightened.'

	'This is getting exciting,' said Kerowski. 'Us working alongside technicians, helping to fit the Belt together while monitor ships with blazing guns protect us. We'd better be issued with a ray gun, too, because we've been trained to use small arms and we'll beat off any attacks side by side with our noble comrades.'

	'Oh, pipe down,' Kemlo protested. 'That's the trouble with him,' he apologised to Calvin Lester. 'When he gets excited he goes all dramatic'

	'Don't we all?' said Calvin with a laugh. He turned as he saw Captain Heralgo emerging from the master-ship, and they all waited silently until the huge space-suited figure joined them.

	'That's that,' said the captain. 'Have you been telling the lads how we're going to use them?'

	'I've just been mentioning it.'

	'Good. After a little discussion, I have received the full cooperation from the Elders and the permission of the Parents' Council on the Satellite Belts, and in a very short time the boys should be on their way.'

	'And the monitor ships?' Calvin asked.

	'They'll be leaving the Bohana base in an hour. There'll be eight ships and eight decoys.'

	'Decoys!' Kemlo exclaimed.

	'Empty ships—obsolete models we keep for testing charter flights,' the pilot explained. 'They don't carry crews and their flight is controlled from Earth.'

	'Why decoys?' Kerowski asked.

	'Do you have to have everything explained to you, son?' Captain Heralgo demanded. 'We're working on the assumption that a human agency is behind this spectrum across the space lanes. That being so, we assume that the flight of any ships from the Bohana base to this area will be charted by people we had best call our enemies at this time. The monitor ships will fly with all instruments neutralised and the electronic impulses earthed. Thus those who are taking note of what ships leave Earth for this area or, for that matter, leave the Bohana base, will plot the course of the decoys. Those ships will probably be exploded half a million miles from here.

	'Meanwhile, the monitor ships will fly under their neutralising screen and arrive here without anybody being the wiser. Once they are here, we shall see how strong that spectrum is. In the meantime, here comes Sergeant Cassidy.' He pointed to the figure now crossing the sky from the centre of the area. 'He has received my instructions and from now on he will be your leader and main contact. You two boys will be responsible for the other boys, who will be arriving shortly, and will work with Sergeant Cassidy. You will use the two cargo ships on each side of the centre of the diamond as meeting points and bases for your food and rest and other necessities.'

	The sergeant joined them and there was a general discussion for a few moments before Captain Heralgo said briskly:

	'Come with me, Captain Lester. Sergeant, take the boys over to their ships and await the arrival of the boys from the other Belts. Immediately they arrive, organise them into sections and set them working. No matter what you see or hear—don't stop working!'

	Captain Heralgo climbed into the charter pilot's craft and in a moment the two men were through the holding rays and soaring out beyond the diamond.

	' 'Tis a man of action he is, to be sure,' said Sergeant Cassidy. 'And niver in me misspent life did I expect to be working with space-boys 'way up in the sky above Mother Earth. 'Tis enough to set a man to dreamin', so it is!'

	They were half-way toward the centre of the diamond and the area where the bustle of assembling the Belt was being carried on when Kerowski nudged Kemlo and pointed away to the right.

	'Here they come,' he said in a doleful voice.

	Kemlo glanced across in time to see the holding rays part to admit flight after flight of space scooters which, obviously according to previous orders, swung to the south of the diamond and gathered in a close-knit anchorage to the east of the master-ship. Very soon about fifty boys were grouped outside the scooters, gazing around them with eager interest.

	'Ah, well,' said Sergeant Cassidy, and his helmet speaker sighed gustily. 'I'd best be going to look after me kindergarten.'

	The words stung Kemlo to a sharp retort.

	'They're not kindergarten, Sergeant,' he said. 'They'll work hi well as any man.'

	'Sure and they will,' said the sergeant, halting and turning to face them, a degree of surprise in his voice. ' 'Tis a sloppy tongue I have and there's no call for you to mind it. Come along with me and put me right as to who these laddies might be.'

	Rivalry was keen between the space-born boys who lived on the various Satellite Belts and there was seldom an occasion when any of them did not enjoy a scrap. But for all the apparent animosity there was a sense of friendship among them, heightened by a strong competitive spirit. Each Satellite Belt had its own sports teams and individual representatives for boxing, fencing and other solo activities. This was the first time in their lives that all the boys had been gathered together in such circumstances. Many of them previously had mingled together on one Belt or another, attending special concerts in aid of their sports funds, or to watch and take part in team events.

	Both Kemlo and Kerowski wondered how many fights they would have on their hands before the others settled down. Among the fifty-odd boys there were a number from Satellite Belt K, which made sure of Kemlo and Kerowski having some supporters from the start.

	But they need not have worried because, obviously, all the boys had been told a little of the seriousness of this occasion and the reason why their unstinted help was required. They were all old enough and intelligent enough to forget any personal differences and remember the team spirit which played so large a part in their normal lives.

	Thus Sergeant Cassidy was surprised to find that, instead of having a mob of unruly boys to contend with, he had a well-disciplined although high-spirited bunch of willing and eager assistants, and it did not take long to assign the boys into various sections which Cassidy called his 'working parties'. When all these details were settled they moved across the area toward the hub.

	Kerowski managed to close up to Kemlo as they approached the hub.

	'Captain Heralgo's certainly a wizard at organising,' he whispered. 'Just think what he's done in that short time!'

	'That's why he's the boss of this project,' said Kemlo. 'And it's pretty wonderful to see how every man's behind him. None of them resents our coming to help, although one or two were a bit snooty when we mixed with them before.'

	'Yes, they were inclined to boss us around a bit. Can't blame them, I suppose, but I'm glad they're not going to make any argument now.'

	'Break it up, me darlin's,' said Sergeant Cassidy, coming up to them. 'You'll be working apart from now on, and be responsible for your own working parties. And you, Kemlo my son, will be needing to keep in close touch with your brother Space Scout Captains.'

	'Fair enough, Sergeant,' said Kemlo with a grin as he clapped Kerowski on the shoulder. 'I'll see you later, Krow.'

	When Kerowski had gone, Sergeant Cassidy beckoned to one of the space-suited figures working near them whose helmet bore the insignia of sergeant of electronic engineers.

	'This is Sergeant Sorturo,' said Sergeant Cassidy. 'Number one working party under Kemlo will take instructions from him. He's all yours, Sorturo.' Sergeant Cassidy turned to the other boys as he called: 'Number two party, report to the sergeant of welding engineers yonder. Numbers three, four and five, follow me and I'll assign you to your sergeants.'

	And soon all the boys had split up into their sections or working parties, as Sergeant Cassidy preferred to call them, and joined the crew-men who were working under the leadership of a technical sergeant.

	Kemlo would have liked to be attached to the welding section, but this was no time for personal feelings. Whatever the work, it had to be done, and the electronic engineers, busy now on coupling up the contacts which ran from the hub into the end sections of the spokes, were just as busy as the rest.

	Calvin Lester had warned the boys about work, but even that wanting did not prepare Kemlo for the arduous speed at which Sorturo drove his team. He did not know what the normal speed should have been in this work of fitting the sections of the Belt together, but it was evident that every man was working full out. During a short break he managed to put the question to Sergeant Sorturo.

	'Yes, we're going faster than it was thought possible,' Sergeant Sorturo agreed. 'We're going to beat all records for assembling this Satellite Belt, and we're going to beat all who want to stop us. Now back to work, Kemlo. No more talking. Go over and help Bob run that tapping through number two section of the spoke. You and three of the boys enter the section from the other end and take up the tapping from there. I'll be along to check later.'

	And that was how it went—a ceaseless driving energy speeding the work on so that the Belt seemed to grow before their eyes. The boys were tired and aching by the time they ate their evening meal and settled down to sleep. Bedding had been brought across from Satellite Belt K's stores and rigged up on the open platform of the cargo ships' exit chutes.

	The eight monitor ships had arrived, bringing with them relief crews to swell the working numbers. The crew-men worked on, snatching only a few hours' sleep. Kemlo and the boys in his party begged to be allowed to do this also, but were rather glad their offer was refused, for they could scarcely keep their eyes open over supper.

	But with the natural resilience of their age, they awoke bright and fresh in the morning, and after breakfast were again at work. Several times during the day Kemlo glanced around, peering through the holding rays which surrounded the ship-lined diamond. He could just see four of the great monitor ships anchored at strategic points along the outer edge of the diamond—one on each side of the north and south points and one at each angle of the centre. He could not help wishing he could fly out to see if the spectrum had again appeared and what was developing, but Captain Heralgo and Calvin Lester and all the technical chiefs of the Satellite Belts, including his own father, were doing that while this work was being thrashed forward at a furious pace.

	But there wasn't much time for these thoughts and wishes because the work needed intense concentration; and once or twice he made bad mistakes, which caused Sergeant Sorturo to snap at him sharply.

	'We've enough to do without going back correcting your mistakes, Kemlo,' said the sergeant. 'When you poke that tapping into the underside bulkhead, you must wait until the junction is secured, or else you'll snap the connection. I shan't tell you again. Now watch it.'

	And Kemlo had been meek enough to answer humbly:

	'Yes, sir.'

	After the first few days the boys were allowed to do welding, and in developing a greater knowledge of the work their help became a more practical thing. Soon the crew-men treated them more like buddies and were content to leave most of the boys to do the work to which they had been assigned. All the assembly work was checked by an expert surveyor after the crews had moved on to another section, and soon the complaints of faulty work became less and less.

	Only once during the week did Kemlo have any contact with Calvin Lester, who came across one evening to chat to them; but he was non-committal as to what was happening around the area of the spectrum. Probably because too many other ears were listening. But from his carefully guarded remarks, Kemlo gathered that Captain Heralgo was carrying out some pretty exhaustive tests in his efforts to discover the source of the spectrum and the degree of its danger.

	He did not see very much of Kerowski, for his friend was based on the opposite side of the diamond formation and they did little more than wave to each other when the work brought them moderately close together.

	The great wheel-shaped bulk had, after more than a week of the relentless driving energy, reached the stage where the four spokes were complete except for the last section. The crew-men worked at the same ruthless speed, driving themselves almost beyond the point of human endurance and many had to be taken across to the hospital ship and revived after collapsing from space-suit fatigue. But they were tough and healthy men, these hand-picked crews, and a brief rest and a couple of necessary injections were all they needed before they returned to their work.

	With the pressure of the work and the excitement and exhilaration of being so much a part of the building of this great Satellite, Kemlo had almost forgotten the lurking danger of the spectrum. Then toward the end of one working day they were almost blinded by the glare of exploding rays which suddenly burst in a holocaust of flame and fury beyond the outer edges of the diamond.

	The blue of the void was lost in the fantastic whirls of coloured lights which seared and burned across the space around them.

CHAPTER 14
Battle of the Rays

	The battle flared unceasingly and it needed all the self-discipline the boys could muster not to crack under the strain of it.

	The Earth-men were not in much better shape, although their natural toughness and training, aided by the disciplined example of their leaders, kept them working despite the fantastic sight surrounding them.

	When the boys' spell of work was over, their food and bedding was brought to the open end of one of the spokes as an extra safety precaution, and at this time Kemlo and Kerowski were called to the master-ship.

	On arrival there, eyes dazzled by the ceaseless barrage of exploding rays beyond the diamond formation, they found Kemlo's father and several Elders from the Satellite Belts grouped around Captain Heralgo. In front of the captain as he sat on a portable bench-type control seat set on the master-ship's ramp was a battery of electronic instruments.

	Kemlo's father waved to the boys and Calvin Lester moved from the group to meet them.

	'What's happening, Cal?' Kemlo asked, squinting his eyes against the glare.

	'Plenty.' The pilot's voice was harsh. 'The captain wants you two over here because he thinks he's found a way to isolate the spectrum. You're the only ones who've seen its real shape before we cluttered up the area with the new Belt and all those ships.'

	'But this ray bombardment!' Kerowski protested as he shielded his eyes. 'What's happening out there?'

	'They're trying to break the spectrum by bombarding it with rays from the monitor ships.'

	'We guessed that,' said Kerowski in a disgruntled tone, 'But If the spectrum is strong enough to crush a patrol craft, you won't break it with ray bombardment.'

	'Will you listen to the boy?' said Calvin, his voice sarcastically pitying. 'Perhaps you have a better idea, master brain?'

	Kerowski was unabashed. 'It just seemed sense to me, that's all,' he said airily.

	'Is that how you feel, Kemlo?' Calvin asked.

	'Well...' Kemlo began thoughtfully. 'I think Krow's right in a way.'

	'What way?'

	'Perhaps we shouldn't start giving opinions until we know whether the ray bombardment is having any effect on the spectrum.'

	'Come over here and have a look for yourselves,' said Calvin sharply. As they followed him toward Captain Heralgo, Kemlo nudged Kerowski and whispered:

	'Why don't you shut up? They're doing all they can. If we get cheeky they'll pack us off back to the Belt.'

	'Well, it seems dippy to me,' Kerowski whispered back. 'If a space craft can hit that spectrum at a speed of ten thousand and bounce off it, I don't see how a ray bombardment is even going to dent it.'

	'That's only what we think,' said Kemlo hurriedly as they neared the ramp of the master-ship. 'You know what grown-ups are-—one time they'll listen to you, but another time they don't want to hear what you have to say.'

	'And this is one of those times?'

	'I think so. We've been proved right up to now, but we don't want to start getting big-headed over it.'

	Captain Heralgo raised his gloved hand and beckoned them to come closer. Kemlo was aware of his father's stern gaze and very conscious that the Elders and senior technicians from the various Satellite Belts were watching him and Kerowski with considerable interest. He also noticed that his father and several of the other technicians had portable electronic transmission and receiving sets clamped to the front of their space suits. The green star-shaped light which glowed in the centre of the casing of the set winked like an evil eye as the pulse of the continuous open circuit fed through it. This green light indicated that a constant open circuit was being maintained with Earth, and the knowledge heightened the gravity of the moment.

	'Come round this side, boys,' Captain Heralgo called. 'One of you stand each side of me facing these instruments.'

	When they were in position and looking down at the lighted screen and flickering dials above the remote control switches and press-buttons, Captain Heralgo pointed to the screen.

	'Do you think the spectrum looks any different from when you saw it last?'

	Both boys bent to peer more closely at the screen which reflected a radar-like diamond pattern. The formation of ships and the new Satellite Belt in the centre of the diamond showed as opalescent blobs; but beyond those, a dark purple line extended from top to bottom in a curving arc around each side. At the north and south of the diamond the curves came together like pincer jaws, but in the centre it gave the appearance of jagged teeth.

	'The zigzag is much deeper than when we last saw it,' said Kemlo, and glanced across at his friend.

	Kerowski nodded. 'Very much deeper,' he agreed. 'And judging by the screen, it's moved a lot more than twelve degrees farther in.'

	'It certainly has,' Captain Heralgo replied grimly. 'There's only a ship's gap between the outer wall of our holding rays and the points of the zigzag jaws. We're concentrating all our firepower on the centre section.'

	'Is it having any effect?' Kerowski asked bluntly, and plunged on, ignoring Kemlo's warning look. 'I shouldn't think any ray bombardment would even dent that spectrum.'

	There was a short and, to Kemlo, slightly embarrassing silence before Captain Heralgo looked at him and asked quietly: 'Is that what you think, too, Kemlo?'

	'We're only giving an opinion, sir,' Kemlo replied politely but defensively. 'I'd say that the spectrum could withstand the bombardment, but you arc the best judge of that.'

	'We can't tell,' the captain admitted. 'Since we started the bombardment, the spectrum has not moved at all, and only at the most concentrated part of the fire-power has there been any backward movement. And even that is so slight as not to matter very much.' He paused, then added more slowly and emphatically: 'But what we don't know is whether we are preventing the movement of the spectrum, or whether those who are controlling it have not attempted to move it forward since our bombardment began. The fact that the teeth of the zigzag have become sharper and their line deeper does seem rather significant. If only one had recorded this spectrum we might know more about it.'

	'Why not concentrate your fire-power at one end of the spectrum?' Kerowski suggested. 'Its line doesn't seem as deep and it might not have the strength of the zigzag.'

	'It has,' was the sharp retort. 'We are not complete imbeciles, young fella-me-lad, and although I know you mean well—just give us a little credit for thinking of some things!'

	'Sorry, sir,' said Kerowski quickly and sincerely. 'I should have known that would be obvious to you from the start.'

	'Well, at present the bombardment is the only defence we've got, apart from the holding rays,' said Captain Heralgo. 'We're rushing up more equipment from Earth. You boys have been a great help, but I think now that you and your friends will have to be returned to the Satellite Belts. We might have to beat this thing by more drastic methods and, as your Elders point out, the danger is a little too great.'

	'Oh, no, sir!' both Kemlo and Kerowski voiced the protest almost together, and Kemlo continued: 'There might be danger, but if you get beaten by this invisible force on the new Belt, there's nothing to stop the other Satellites getting the same treatment. We'd be in even greater danger then because we wouldn't have all these ships with their holding rays . . .' He stopped speaking as a sudden thought came to him.

	Captain Heralgo glanced up rather impatiently.

	'Well? Go on, boy, go on,' he snapped.

	'I just had a sudden idea, but—'

	'But! No buts, Kemlo. If you have an idea, spill it. I've got plenty of ideas, but I'm limited by the number of men I can call upon.'

	Kemlo's father moved closer to them, for naturally he had been able to overhear this conversation, and placed his hands around Kemlo's shoulders.

	'Take it easy, son,' he said quietly, feeling the boy's body tense beneath his hands. 'This is a difficult time for us all, and if you have a good idea, then explain it quietly and simply. We all understand that you are only trying to help. For the first time in many, many years our instruments are defeated. We cannot trace the source of this thing we call a spectrum for want of a better name. There are many things we can do, but first we must try everything we know so as not to place this new Satellite Belt in jeopardy. Our big problem is to beat this unseen force and save the Belt at the same time. Now tell Captain Heralgo what's in your mind.'

	'May I ask a question or two first?'

	'Go ahead. Make it fast,' Captain Heralgo replied.

	Kemlo glanced around him and was further encouraged when he saw Calvin Lester give him the thumbs-up sign. He drew a deep breath and said:

	'Are you convinced that the spectrum is man-made and not space phenomena?'

	'Of course we are.'

	'But you are not able to trace the sending source?'

	'We are not. There is some neutralising influence which at present is beyond our knowledge and our instruments. This influence blocks off all attempts to trace its source. Our hope is to double the strength of the holding rays with extra equipment from Earth and at least keep the spectrum off the Belt. Come along now, Kemlo—surely that's enough questions? What is this idea of yours?'

	'Complete the Belt so that it can generate its own holding ray protection.'

	'Is that all?' Captain Heralgo snapped in a disappointed tone.

	'No, sir.' Kemlo glanced at Kerowski, who looked anxious and was perspiring freely. 'But I think you'll need the help of all the hoys.'

	'So that's what you're angling for, is it?' the captain roared. 'You don't want to be sent back to your Belts, eh?'

	'No, we don't,' Kemlo admitted frankly. 'But here's my idea.' He rushed on because he realised that Captain Heralgo had got the wrong impression. 'Complete the Belt, then raise it about twenty miles to clear the spectrum before you set it spinning.'

	'Raise it! Raise it and leave it exposed?'

	'Please, sir—I hadn't finished,' Kemlo pleaded. 'Once the Belt is clear, reform the ships, put the monitors in front and open up all holding rays to full power from a spearhead formation. Then start the motors.' He clenched one fist and slammed it hard into the palm of his other hand. 'Then—wham!' he concluded fiercely.

	'Ye gods!' Captain Heralgo exclaimed forcibly. ' "Then— wham!" says the boy! Just like that. Nearly sixty ships— then—wham!'

	'That's it, sir,' said Kemlo cheerfully. 'If you break the spectrum circuit, perhaps you will break this neutralizer gadget as Hi well. Then your instruments will trace the source and—'

	'Whoa!' Captain Heralgo shouted. He beckoned to Kemlo's father. 'We have a problem sir,' he said in a carefully restrained voice. 'Either I'm a fool, or you have a brilliant son.'

	'I don't think either description is true, sir,' Kemlo's father replied with a trace of humour in his tone. 'Could we not agree that youth has vision and age has sense, and strive to obtain the best from both?'

	'You've heard his idea—what do you think of it?' Captain Heralgo spoke gruffly.

	Kemlo's father replied quietly: 'I like the idea of—er— wham! And as our immediate problem is to complete the Belt and at the same time resist the crushing effect of this fantastic spectrum, I think the idea merits full consideration.'

	'You'd better make sure that the Elders agree to our using the boys,' said the captain, and busied himself for a few seconds manipulating the recharging switches which kept the monitor ships firing their rays.

	'You mean that you'll do it, sir?' Kemlo cried.

	'Wham!' Captain Heralgo repeated as if to himself. 'As simple as that!' He turned and stared keenly at Kemlo, who now could see his eyes more clearly as the dark protective vizor was lightened by the continual flashes of colour coming from beyond the diamond. They were steady eyes, commanding in their intensity of gaze. 'It isn't quite as simple as that, you know, Kemlo. Not simple—but possible. And to get the Belt lifted I shall have to open the rays wide enough to let in the ships that will be coming up with the extra holding ray equipment. They will be the only ones we can use to lift the Belt. In those moments, the holding ray protection surrounding the diamond will be broken in several places. That could defeat us.'

	'If you'll forgive me for putting in my few words, sir,' said Kerowski apologetically, 'I think Kemlo meant we boys could do that.'

	Captain Heralgo swivelled around to face Kerowski.

	'Did he now? And are you lads going to push the Belt up on your shoulders?'

	'No—on our scooters,' Kerowski retorted. 'There's a whole batch of them already inside the formation. You wouldn't have to release any holding rays.'

	'Kerowski's right,' said Kemlo eagerly. 'Once the Belt is completed, the engineers can set the magnetic shield and the Belt's own holding rays. Then we can position our scooters underneath it; and while you raise the top canopy of rays from the ships, we'll push the Belt up.'

	Captain Heralgo made a gesture with his gloved hands which seemed to indicate that if he had not been wearing space protection he would have torn out a couple of chunks of his hair.

	'Boys!' he exclaimed. 'Oh, well, I was one myself once and, if I remember rightly, my biggest grouse was that grown-ups always underestimated me.' Then his voice became more serious as he added: 'There's no weight problem, of course. Just a question of direction until we set the Belt spinning.'

	He stood up and, raising a gloved hand above the vizor, peered across toward where the boys' space scooters were anchored. 'Twenty odd scooters,' he said slowly. 'With care that ought to do it.' He turned full circle and faced the men assembled behind him. 'Well, gentlemen,' he said, 'I am ready to start planning Operation Kemlo—or should we call it Operation Wham?'

CHAPTER 15
Box in the Sky

	When Kemlo and Kerowski awoke the next morning they found that the ray bombardment had ceased and the monitor ships withdrawn into the diamond formation and positioned at the north apex.

	They found also that the news of Operation Kemlo had been released in its entirety.

	' Tis a noble plan, me darlin's,' Sergeant Cassidy observed. 'Let's hope it works.'

	'It's got a good chance of working,' said Sergeant Sorturo quietly. 'It's bold, and that's what is needed. There's nothing supernatural about this spectrum thing; but our scientists have slipped up somewhere.'

	'Because they didn't discover it themselves?' Kemlo asked.

	'They've no doubt been experimenting with a similar thing,' Sergeant Sorturo replied. 'Both the East and West scientists keep pretty level in their discoveries; but whatever one man devises in the form of an attacking weapon, another man can devise a defence against it. Our International Commission just hasn't been quick enough, that's all.'

	'That's enough,' said Sergeant Cassidy feelingly. 'And we're supposed to have an intelligence service to spy out new ideas and prevent us from being caught like this!'

	'They probably find out a lot of things, and I dare say we have one or two secrets.' Sergeant Sorturo gave Kemlo a gentle push on the shoulder. 'Well, it's your idea, son,' he said. 'Good luck to it and to you, but until the time's ready for it to go into operation we've got work to do. Work is the order—faster than we've ever worked up to now. Let's go to it.'

	Tired men went to work with renewed energy and optimism, everyone realising that they now had reached the last stages in the enormous and intricate task of linking up the sections of this new Satellite Belt. And now that the boys knew they were not to be hustled back to their respective Belts but were to be a part of whatever happened, they worked with an even greater enthusiasm and energy.

	All the work was complicated and had to be done very carefully, checked and double-checked to make sure there were no errors; but the most difficult part of assembling the hub—the nerve centre of the Belt—and the spokes, with their masses of equipment, had been completed. The rim, although the largest portion of the Belt, strangely enough was easier to link up.

	Despite the pressure of events yet to come, a little ceremony was performed when the last section of the rim was fitted. Calvin Lester, senior technicians, Elders from the other Satellite Belts, watched while Captain Heralgo and his senior officers did the work of fitting in this last section. Only one small seam remained to be welded when he beckoned to Kemlo, who stood with the other boys and the crew-men in a circle around the section.

	'You know how to use one of these, son?' Captain Heralgo asked, passing the portable welding knife to him.

	'Yes, sir, I know how to use it.'

	'Then use it.' The captain pointed to the last seam. 'Weld it good and true—that's your honour. You do it on behalf of all the space-born boys who have done their share to help in completing this Belt.'

	At first Kemlo's hands were rather shaky, but he soon manipulated the pressure control on the welding knife and slowly, carefully, sealed the last seam in the last section of the rim.

	The speaker helmets of the assembled space-suited figures gave forth a zestful cheer, but Captain Heralgo held up his hand for silence.

	'A magnificent job done ahead of schedule under difficult conditions,' he announced. 'I thank all of you—Earth-men and space-boys. And now—the ray engineers will enter the hub and set the holding rays generating around this Belt. All others will report back to their crew ships. Pilots of cargo ships will enter their ships, start motors, beam all controls to the master-ship, then abandon ship and report to me. Crew ships and instrument ships will drop back and form a line behind the master-ship, which will be moving up shortly.

	'All the Satellite Belt boys will board their scooters and position them nose upward beneath the rim of this Belt. Immediately the engineers have generated the holding rays around the Belt, the scooters will, on a signal from the master-ship, guide the Belt upward until the agreed readings have been reached. The Scooters will then turn back and form up behind the crew ships. There they will wait and will not follow the armada when it starts Operation Kemlo.'

	He paused for a moment, huge and dominant, standing on the rim of the Satellite Belt gazing around at the silent figures beneath him. Then his voice rang clearly through the specially amplified speaker he was using.

	'All right, men—and boys!' he cried. 'Let's go!'

	Bustle and tremendous activity filled the sky as the captain's orders were carried out, and soon the gleaming new Satellite Belt was alone in the centre of the diamond formation; an inert mass of wondrous design yet somehow puny against the immensity of space.

	Kemlo, Kerowski and the other boys hurried back to the anchorage. Climbing into their scooters they set them in motion toward their position beneath the rim of the Belt.

	They all waited anxiously until the first opalescent fingers of the holding rays began generating from the slots positioned at many angles all over the Belt. They saw the magnetic shield around the rim start to glimmer and their instruments recorded its pull while the holding rays grew stronger until, at last, the whole Belt was enveloped in a wall of protection.

	Then the ray engineers emerged from the hub and sealed the exit chute behind them. Using portable ray releases which were tuned with the hub's generating instruments they cleared a gap for themselves, passed through it and, as the holding rays closed safely behind them, turned and hurried across to their ships.

	Together with the other boys, Kemlo and Kerowski, now positioned with the noses of their scooters pressing lightly against tile wall of the holding rays on the underside of the Belt's rim, watched their instruments and waited for the signal from the master-ship.

	At last it came, and eager hands set the scooters' controls. Excited voiced babbled to one another over the intercom circuits as slowly the little scooters nosed the great Belt upward. At first yard by yard—slowly, cautiously. But soon the power of the scooters' units increased and the Belt slid up the sky as the holding rays rose vertically to allow it to pass.

	An awesome and gracious sight, but one which could not be properly enjoyed by those who watched it because the closely looming danger of the crushing spectrum was very real.

	The boys eased back their scooters when the correct degree of distance had been reached, hovered for a while, waiting tensely, watching that massive glinting object they had raised into the sky above the now scattered formation of ships.

	They heard the warning from the master-ship's Control, saw their instruments flicker and the radar screens give their own signals. They saw the Belt shudder very slightly and for a second become a blur as its huge power unit hummed to life at the touch of a remote control switch. In seconds the Belt was spinning and had reached its maximum, and they knew, for they were born and lived on such a Belt, that it would now remain for ever in space— yet another symbol of Man's ingenuity.

	Under Kemlo's leadership the space scooters grouped themselves into formation and flew in a wide arc across the sky to take up positions behind the now assembled crew ships.

	A perfect spear-shaped formation had been made with the monitor ships forming its apex. Behind them were six reserve ships newly arrived from Earth and carrying large holding ray generators. Behind these were massed the cargo ships and crew ships, while positioned slightly above this formation was the gleaming yellow bulk of the master-ship.

	The boys, keeping their instruments on open circuit, could hear every instruction from the master-ship and see on the screens the movement of the whole formation. Kemlo and Kerowski, knowing what they hoped to see, kept their infra-red binoculars to hand and constantly peered through them.

	The spectrum was there right enough; two lines of coloured jagged teeth curving away into the distance and, it seemed, getting narrower all the way.

	The spear-head formation was aimed at a slanting angle which would send it either bursting through the spectrum or else piled up in a jumble of flaming ships exploding under the force of impact. Master-ship, crew ships and scooters would be safe, for the warning that the spectrum could not be broken would come when the holding rays of the monitor and generating ships first hit it.

	Instructions from the master-ship were now becoming finalised, and from the sides of the spear-head formation, directed into an almost needle-like point, was the most powerful battery of holding rays that the boys had ever seen or dreamed could exist. Although it was Kemlo's idea in the first place, he was staggered by the terrific power about to be unleashed ahead of them.

	Silence came suddenly over the speakers as Captain Heralgo's voice, calm and confident and clear, announced:

	'Automatic control now set. Crew ships and space scooters hold position. In five seconds spear-head will attack. Five, four, three, two...'

	With binoculars pressed to their eyes, Kemlo and Kerowski sat tensely as the great bunched formation hurtled forward across the sky.

	They saw the jagged line of the spectrum curving away at an angle; saw the first holding rays push into it. For a second it seemed that the monitor ships and the generating ships behind them would pile up. The nose of the spear-head staggered in the sky, hung poised for a fraction of time—then, forced on by the mighty power behind them, the holding rays burst through the spectrum cleaving a broadening track as, with relentless pressure, the cargo ships screamed on in the wake of the leaders.

	The holding rays swept the sky, and in those seconds had it not been for the infra-red binoculars, a tremendous flash of violet light which spread in a glowing path across the deep blue of the void might well have blinded those who watched.

	What had been the east side of the spectrum had vanished in that flash of light. What had been the west side of the spectrum was now a writhing mass of molten purple light, slowly fading over its original length. But the light was spreading farther across the void—farther than the eye could see.

	By now, on the side first assailed by the ships' holding rays and tiny in the distance, another violet light was visible.

	Captain Heralgo's voice from the master-ship snapped them to attention.

	'Master-ship raking off. Crew ships follow. Space scooters, return to your Belts.'

	The spear-head armada of monitor ships, generating ships and cargo ships, now small in the distance had, under the guidance of the master-ship's automatic control, been turned and were heading back. When the beam was cut, the ships' motors stopped and they were allowed to lie in their magnetic anchorage while the master-ship hurtled onward, followed by the crew ships, in the wake of that tiny violet light in the sky.

	'Which way do we return to the Belt?' Kemlo panted, for these last seconds had been breathless and tense.

	'That way,' Kerowski replied without hesitation, pointing in the direction of the fast disappearing crew ships.

	'That's what I thought,' said Kemlo, and setting the induction to full he zoomed the scooter after them.

	The master-ship and crew ships soon were out of sight, but the boys in the space scooters careered after them and for a long time flew in a seemingly empty void. But at last Kemlo, who was in the lead, picked up the readings of the ships ahead and resetting his controls so that he would be flying dead on to their position, grinned at Kerowski.

	'This is going to be worth a clip on the ear. Why should we miss the last of the fun? Especially after it worked.'

	'Wham!' Kerowski laughed. 'And what a wham it was! I wonder what they've found up ahead?'

	'We'll soon know.' Kemlo pointed through the canopy of the scooter. 'There's the master-ship with the crew ships around it.'

	As the scooter veered closer and they could see more clearly, they noticed figures walking across the sky. Kemlo spoke into the intercom and advised the other boys in the scooters behind him to cut their induction and fan out in order not to overrun the area where the big ships had halted.

	He zoomed the scooter near to this area, cut the induction and slid open the canopy. He and Kerowski clambered out and hurried to join the space-suited figures who were now moving cautiously toward a box-like object.

	Calvin Lester caught sight of them and cried:

	'Don't come any closer, Kemlo! We don't know what it is yet. It might blow us all to smithereens.'

	'I thought you boys were ordered back to your Belts?' Captain Heralgo roared; then they heard him chuckle. 'Ah, well—they deserve it. Watch 'em, Cal.'

	The other boys had now arrived, and leaving their scooters motionless they all clambered out toward the area. But some of the crew-men held them back so that their view of the strange object in the sky was obscured by the ring of space-suited figures grouped around it.

	The captain and one of his engineers were stooping, doing something to the object. There was a tiny violet flash, then the huge figure of Captain Heralgo raised itself upright and he said clearly:

	'All right, Cal. It's safe now!'

	Kemlo and Kerowski hurried along and soon had joined the circle of space-suited figures gazing at the shiny black object— roughly twenty feet long by ten feet wide and deep. A small shutter had been opened in its smooth surface and Captain Heralgo obviously had disconnected some mechanism.

	'There it is, Kemlo,' he said, crossing to them and putting an arm around each boy's shoulder. 'That will be a sight for any scientist when we get it back to Earth.'

	'What is it, sir?' Kemlo asked.

	'Right now, it's a box in the sky. It was your idea that we broke the spectrum in the way we did. By breaking the spectrum we neutralised a neutraliser, which might sound crazy but is the only way I can explain it to you. The violet flash was the earthing of the neutraliser back to its source. Our instruments were able to pick it up and pinpoint it. As far as we can judge at present, this box is an electronic ray impulse generator controlled by someone on Earth. The most powerful and, you might say, futuristic weapon I've ever seen. Clever—very clever. In fact those Eastern International fellas are clever, and it's about time we made friends with them. But that's for the politicians. In the meantime —we've found the source of our spectrum.'

	'How did it get here?' Kerowski asked.

	'Quite easily, I suppose,' the captain replied. 'They could send up a small ship with this on board, keeping clear of the chartered space lanes, and position it where they wanted it. A twenty foot box in the immensity of space is a pretty small thing. You wouldn't see it at fifty miles, let alone twenty thousand! Let's get it aboard the master-ship, then we'll all go back to our new Satellite Belt and have a celebration.' Captain Heralgo gazed around at the other boys. 'And all you boys, too,' he added.

	The box was loaded, the ships sealed up and, led by the monster yellow master-ship, the boys in their space scooters flew between the crew ships back across the infinite blue void until they came within sight of the Satellite licit gleaming proudly in the sky.

	Kemlo looked at his friend.

	'Feels good, eh?' he grinned.

	'Very good,' Kerowski agreed in a satisfied voice. 'It will be something to tell our kids when we grow up.'

	'They won't believe a grown-up's story,' Kemlo replied with a chuckle. 'Kids never do.'

The End

	Whatever your taste, you can be certain of getting what you want in the Merlin Paperback range. May we suggest these three titles for future reading? They are all very good—and all very different!

WILLIAM THE REBEL

	The scapegoat of the Brown family has no less than eight exciting adventures in this book, and his escapades range from forcibly removing a millionaire from his holiday home to entering a strange house disguised as a dog! You can rely on William!

LONE PINE FIVE

	What is so special about Jenny's silver spoon? Where has it come from? Why docs the old man in grey want it so much? Who are the people following him so closely? The Lone Piners, camping in their favourite Shropshire hills, are determined to find out, little guessing to what excitement and danger Jenny's spoon will lead them.

POCOMOTO-TENDERFOOT

	Shadowy figures stampede an entire herd of cattle before Pocomoto's very eyes. Poco claims they were Indians, but he is branded a liar. But when men with flaming arrows and flashing knives attack again, it is time for action, not argument. As usual Pocomoto is in the thick of it. . . .

	Children! The book you have just read (and enjoyed, we hope) is just one of the many exciting titles in the Merlin Series. Whether you like adventure or humour, old favourites like 'William' and 'Billy Bunter', or some of our new characters, remember there are lots more Merlin books to choose from. They cost only 2/6, so why not go along to your local bookshop or newsagent now? Even better, get a kindly parent or friend to buy one for you. If you have any difficulty, they can be obtained at 3/- each (in the U.K.) from Paul Hamlyn Ltd., The Centre, Feltham, Middlesex.

	Mister Galliano's Circus			Enid Blyton
	The Naughtiest Girl in the School		Enid Blyton
	The Children of Willow Farm			Enid Blyton
	The Children of Cherry Tree Farm		Enid Blyton
	The Adventurous Four			Enid Blyton
	The Naughtiest Girl Again			Enid Blyton
	The Adventurous Four Again			Enid Blyton
	The Naughtiest Girl is a Monitor		Enid Blyton
	Hurrah for the Circus!				Enid Blyton
	Circus Days Again				Enid Blyton
	William					Richmal Crompton
	William the Rebel				Richmal Crompton
	William the Gangster				Richmal Crompton
	William and the Space Animal		Richmal Crompton
	William and the Moon Rocket		Richmal Crompton
	Just William					Richmal Crompton
	Lone Pine Five					Malcolm Saville
	Saucers Over the Moor			Malcolm Saville
	The Secret of the Gorge			Malcolm Saville
	The Secret of Grey Walls			Malcolm Saville
	Sea Witch Comes Home			Malcolm Saville
	Mystery Mine					Malcolm Saville
	Pocomoto—Pony Express Rider		Rex Dixon
	Pocomoto—Tenderfoot			Rex Dixon
	Billy Bunter's Big Top				Frank Richards
	Billy Bunter and the Man from 
	     South America				Frank Richards
	Billy Bunter and the School Rebellion		Frank Richards
	Billy Bunter and the Secret Enemy		Frank Richards
	Billy Bunter and the Crooked Captain		Frank Richards
	Billy Bunter's Convict				Frank Richards
	Bessie Bunter and the Gold Robbers		Hilda Richards
	Bessie Bunter Joins the Circus		Hilda Richards
	Bessie Bunter and the Missing Fortune	Hilda Richards
	Bessie Bunter and the School Informer	Hilda Richards
	Sally Anne Sees it Through			Kathleen O'Farrell
	Lesley's Great Adventure			George Beardmore
	Carol Closes the Case				Vera Gene Childs
	Silver Blaze					Lilias Edwards
	Kemlo and the Star Men			E. C. Eliot
	Kemlo and the Space Lanes			E. C. Eliot

* * * * * *
Book Information

E. C. ELIOT

KEMLO
AND THE
SPACE LANES

© E. C. ELIOT 1955
This edition first published
in 1968 by THE HAMLYN PUBLISHING GROUP LTD.
HAMLYN HOUSE, THE CENTRE, 
FELTHAM, MIDDLESEX, and printed by 
Richard Clay (The Chaucer Press), Ltd., 
Bungay, Suffolk, England

* * * * * *
Back cover

What is the mystery fo the Martian Ghost Run? 'Bah! There is no mystery. It's just a boy's imagination!' laugh the chiefs of Space Satellite K, orbiting around the earth. But when a senior pilot is confronted by a 'Phantom Spectrum', people begin to listen to Kemlo and his space-borne friends. 

Their pleasure at being believed soon changes to honor, however, when a giant space project is threatened by the Phantom and space-ships are crushed like plastic cups. Kemlo begins to wish he had been imagining things!