cylinder. The shearing nose of my rocket cut through it and into the blasting core of the jet behind it. With that kind of leverage something had to give, and I reached for the crash button just as blackness hit me.... An airy green room, filled with the heady odor of Moon orchids, came floating up out of that blackness. The combination was old stuff to me. I didn't even have to feel for the bandages or see Skid's big grin just beyond the fever chart to know where I was. Only this time one thing was not exactly the same. This time Suvia was standing beside Skid. She worked up a shaky sort of smile for me. Skid came trotting around the side of the bed. "We're all set for the Big Blast, pal," he said happily. "Even with our tubes curled we managed to win the 'Double.'" Well, it's always nice to win. "How's Steve?" I asked. "A little scorched around the edges," Skid said. "But he'll pull through. You pried him off the fence in the nick of time. That was nice work, Pete." All of a sudden I began to feel sorry for Steve. Maybe Astrola was kind of important to him too. Maybe winning it was also the difference to him between a girl with the sun in her hair and a glow that runs soft as moonlight in her eyes and an ache as big as the Alisco crater. Nothing as sentimental as that could have shown on my mug, but Suvia seemed to get the idea anyway. "Judy Carlyle is with Steve now, Pete," she told me. "She took the first tube in from the Coast when she heard Steve was hurt. They're planning on getting married as soon as he's well again. Steve is going to give up racing." I shot a quick glance at Skid, but the grin on his face was undisturbed, and I knew by this that losing or winning a race was more important to Skid than losing or winning a girl. Now that everything was all right with both Steve and Skid, I began to feel sorry all for myself. Maybe I tried to tell myself, I can still fix up my crate and dig out a second or third at Canyon Track. Maybe, with a little