NORTON HAD STARTED suddenly. Now he muttered, red-faced, “Sorry, sir. Sudden light in the visiplate. It looked like a meteoride.”
“There’s nothing there now,” said the skipper.
But Chandler repeated, “Watch each other, Captain? I don’t get it. We’re all pledged and trusted members of the Solar Space Patrol, aren’t we? We all live by the SSP motto. I don’t see—” He fingered his breast insignia, that tiny, golden rocket emblazoned with the words, Order out of Chaos. “I don’t see why we should—”
“Because,” explained the skipper grimly, “wherever there’s an uprising there are converts to the new cause, traitors to the old. Where there are plans, there are spies to steal them. That’s not a warning from H.Q.; that’s plain, old-fashioned horse-sense. I fought through the Rollie Rebellion, you
