Pitchblend, not
daring to fire.

Moments before, they had found the dead pilot's body.

They knew at once what it meant, of course. They had been not more than
a minute too late.

"Call Central Control on Neptune," a police officer said. "We'll send a
cruiser after them."

"Won't do any good," Pitchblend Hardesty groaned.

"What are you talking about, fellow?"

"Unless the cruiser's brand new."

"On Neptune? Don't be silly. Newest one we've got is ten years old."

"Like I said, won't do any good. I worked that ship over, mister. I know
what she's like inside. She may look like an over-age tub on the
outside, but don't let that fool you. She's got power, mister. She's
probably the fastest thing this side of the Jovian moons, except for
those experimental one-man rocket-bombs down at Neptune Station. But
chasing a big tub in a one-man space-bound coffin--" here Pitchblend
used the vernacular for the tiny one-man experimental ships--"ain't
going to do anybody any good. Best thing you can do is track _Mozart's
Lady_ by radar and hope she'll head sunward. Then they could intercept
her closer in."

But _Mozart's Lady_ did not head sunward. Radar tracking confirmed this
moments later. _Mozart's Lady_ was outward bound for Pluto's orbit. And,
with Pluto and Neptune currently in conjunction, that could even mean a
landing, although, the police decided, that wasn't likely. There were no
settlements on Pluto. Pluto was too weird. For the strangest reason in a
solar system and a galaxy of wonders, Pluto was quite uninhabitable.
More likely, _Mozart's Lady_ would follow Pluto's orbit around, then
make a dash sunward....

The radar officer threw up his hands. "I give up," he said. "She's
heading for Pluto's orb all right. Call Neptune Station."

"Neptune Station, sir?"

"You bet. This job's too big for me. The brass will want to handle it."

Seconds later, sub-space crackled with energy as the call was put
through from Triton City to Neptune Station.

* * * * *

Whatever else history would write about him, it would
certainly call Johnny Mayhem the strangest--and literally most
death-defying--test-pilot in history. Of course, testing the sleek
experimental beauties out of Neptune Station and elsewhere wasn't
Mayhem's chief occupation. He was, in a phrase, a trouble-shooter for
the Galactic League. Whenever he had a spare few weeks, having completed
an assignment ahead of schedule in h