Bolts by Alexander Key Page B

world, and I’m sure it’ll lead you in the right direction.” Bingo paused and looked at him earnestly. “Only you can find what we’re after. Cancan we depend on you?”
    â€œAw, Bingo,” Bolts assured him, after giving himself a little shake, “’course you can depend on me! I’m your dawg, and I’ll find out what’s cookin’ if I have to chaw that place apart!”
    The strange asteroid was getting closer, and he was startled to see it so clearly in the forward viewing port. It did look like a blue moon. It grew larger and brighter blue second by second. Then gradually it narrowed to a sliver and suddenly vanished as they curved around to the dark side of it. Absolutely nothing could be seen as the Space Jumper slid cautiously down through absolute blackness.
    It touched the surface, bounced slightly, and steadied. Bingo strapped a tiny camera around Bolts’s neck, and Big Butch hurried to open the hatch to the air lock.
    â€œPoor, poor dog,” Pirate squawked sadly as Bolts scrambled into the air lock behind Butch. “And so young and innocent. It wrings my heartstrings—”

    â€œAw, shaddup before you drown in your own tears,” Big Butch grumbled, closing the hatch with a bang. “I declare if the old crow isn’t softening up! Don’t you worry, Bolts. I know you can do the job. I’ll be waiting for you right outside, guarding the anchor till you get back. Good luck, and watch the gravity!”
    Big Butch opened the outer hatch, and Bolts slid through into the strange dark world of crumbling glass.
    His night vision, with the aid of the light from the Space Jumper’s ports, showed that they had come down in a deep depression. He circled it carefully, sniffing. As soon as he was sure of his footing, he went bounding upward to the dim twisted shapes beyond. There was so little gravity that he weighed only ounces instead of pounds, and he found he could span great distances with very little effort. Almost before he realized it, the Space Jumper was hidden behind him. In this airless place there was not even a glow from its lights.
    Bolts reached a small open area, and paused to rotate his sniffer. Instantly he was aware of a familiar smell—the same frightening smell he had found in the cavern with the fox critter.
    It was the Terrible Unknown.
    Thinking he’d better tame it a bit, he opened his mouth and tried to loosen his Number Two growl. But no sound came forth.
    â€œBy Joe!” he told himself, “I clean forgot it won’t work without air. This is bad.”
    Just to be on the safe side, he raised his hackles and snapped out his teeth. Then he plunged onward, circling and following his sniffer. It was comforting, at this uncertain time, to remember that he was no longer an inexperienced dog, green off the assembly line. Why, he’d kicked around in some tough places and tangled with all kinds of things! “Pshaw,” he told himself, “what’s a little more dark?”
    Something moved in the dimness far ahead.
    Bolts stopped, feeling his circuits squirm. Was that a glass varmint? His night vision, which grayed the blackness in front of him, couldn’t make out a thing. There were only the worn and twisted shapes that might once have been buildings, and in the dark they reminded him very much of the way the cavern had looked.
    But something had moved. He was sure of it.
    He was suddenly relieved to hear Bingo’s voice on his radio. “Have you found a trail yet, Bolts?”
    â€œN-not exactly,” he answered, thankful that his radio worked here, even if his growl didn’t. “B-but I’m sure getting warm. I spotted something.”
    â€œWhat was it?”
    â€œDunno. But mebbe my camera caught it.”
    â€œCareful! Don’t get too close to it until you find out how dangerous it is!”
    Bolts crept on cautiously to the place where he had seen the