"But, Mr. Shinny," asked Astro, "if you knew Wallace was tied up with the robbery of the Credit Exchange, why didn't you tell the Solar Guard before now?"
"Sonny," sighed Shinny, "most of what I know is space dust and space gas. But even so, I don't think Commander Walters or Captain Strong, or even you boys, would think much of me if I went around like an old space crawler, blowin' my jets all over the place."
Strong had listened to Shinny fill in the background of Bull Coxine with a thoughtful look in his eyes. He remembered all too clearly the mutiny on the ship out to Titan. Coxine had been an enlisted Solar Guard petty officer aboard the ship. He had made great strides in two years and was being considered as an officer candidate on the very day he tried to take over the ship. When Strong regained control later, he talked to Coxine, trying to find out why he had started the mutiny. But the man had only cursed him, swearing vengeance. Strong hadn't seen him since.
"So you think he would know where Wallace and Simms might be hiding out?" Strong asked finally.
"If anyone does," replied Shinny, "he does. And I'll tell you this, Captain, if you go to talk to him and I figger you will, you'll find him a lot tougher."
"Well, take yourself, for instance. No reflection on you, of course, but take yourself. You're smart, you're hard, and you got a good mind. You're one of the best spacemen in the deep. Take all that and turn it bad. Real bad. Sour it with too many years on a prison asteroid and you've got a fire-eating rocket buster as tough and as rough as God and society can make him!"
The three cadets gulped and looked at Strong. They saw their skipper clench his teeth and ball his fists into tight knots.
"I know," said Strong in a hoarse whisper, "but if he knows where Wallace and Simms are, he'll tell me. You can bet your last credit, he'll tell me!"
Shinny paused reflectively. "I won't bet," he said simply.
The air inside the space shack was stale because of a faulty filter in the oxygen circulator that neither Wallace nor Simms bothered to clean. The two men lazed around in stocking feet and undershirts, listening to popular music coming over the audio receiver on a late pickup from one of the small Jovian satellite colonies near by.