Chapter 14

“Stand clear!”

Professor Hemmingwell’s voice rang over the roar of activity in the hangar as the huge new control panel was lifted along the hull to a large hole that had been cut into the side of the experimental ship at the control-deck level.

“Easy does it!” called the professor, standing on the deck and peering through the hole. “Careful now!”

Now even with the hole, the panel was slowly pulled into the ship by the workers. Even Major Connel and Steve Strong lent a hand, setting it into place. When it had been securely anchored, a team of technicians swarmed over the panel to begin the intricate work of connecting all the controls to the various parts of the ship, and Hemmingwell and the two Solar Guard officers stepped back to watch them.

“This puts us back on schedule now,” said the professor, turning, red-eyed and tired, to Connel and Strong. “It was a good idea of yours, Steve, to prefabricate the panel and have it put into position all at once. If we had tried to install it piece by piece, we’d be weeks behind.”

“Good work, Steve,” Connel chimed in.

Strong merely nodded his thanks. He was tired. More tired than he had ever been in his life. Not only had he supervised the construction of the new control panel, but he had been working on a special report to present to the Solar Guard Review Board requesting another trial for Astro and Roger. And he had spent every spare minute haunting the MP headquarters of the Solar Guard for word of Tom. So, he accepted the compliments of Connel and Professor Hemmingwell with little enthusiasm.

“You better get some rest, Steve,” said Connel, aware of Strong’s attitude. “I know how hard you’ve been working these past few days. So knock off and I want your word that you will go back to your quarters and get some sleep!”

“Sorry, Major,” replied Strong, “I can’t give you my word about that.”

Connel’s face darkened with anger. “All right! Then do what you want. Get out!” he shouted.

Strong merely nodded and left the ship.

Outside the hangar, he stopped suddenly when he saw Dave Barret step off the slidewalk from the Academy and stride toward him. The young captain clenched his teeth in sudden anger. He had talked to Astro and Roger many times since they had been put on the work gang and they swore that their story of their ill-fated flight was true. Strong could not believe that they would lie. He had been too close to them and had, many times, put his very life into their hands. But there seemed to be no way to break Barret’s story. He waited for the man to pass him.

“Good morning, Strong,” said Barret, as though surprised. “Well, how’s the genius? Get the control panel in this morning?”

Barret was annoyed that Strong’s plan to replace the control panel had been accepted over his own. The captain returned his cold stare and nodded.

“It’s in,” he said, and then added, “I would like to ask you a few questions, Barret.”

“Sorry, haven’t got time!” replied Barret curtly as he tried to brush past Strong. But the young captain grabbed him by the arm and spun him around.

“Make time!” he snarled. “I want the straight story about that so-called test flight!”

Barret glared at Strong. “I suggest that you let go of my arm, Captain,” he threatened, “or I will be forced to bring charges of assault against you!”

Realizing an open fight would be useless, Strong released his grip on the man’s arm and turned away quickly. Barret’s mocking laugh echoed in his ears as he stepped on the slidewalk and glided away toward the Academy. Behind him, the big hangar buzzed with the sound of men working in high gear again. The mighty ship and its specially designed equipment seemed at last to be ready for testing. But Strong felt none of the excitement. It mattered little to the Solar Guard captain whether the project was a success or failure. His thoughts were of the three cadets in his unit, who were, first and foremost, his responsibility.

With double guards around the hangar area and even tighter security restrictions than before, the unknown saboteur was unable to attack the precious ship again. But he struck elsewhere. The single track monorail that Barret had run into the area was blocked by an explosion in the mouth of the tunnel. Nearly a thousand tons of rock and earth had fallen on the hangar side, blocking delivery of vital equipment.

With powerful earth-moving machinery, the tunnel was cleared of the heavy rocks and dirt, and all that remained was a general cleaning up, and the enlisted man’s work gangs had been assigned to that job.

Nearly a hundred tough, battle-scarred spacemen from the enlisted ranks of the Solar Guard worked in the area, stripped to the waist, their bodies burned brown from the sun. Sent to the work gang for petty offenses, rather than for criminal acts, the enlisted men as a whole did not mind the work. They were under guard, watched by a squad of Space Marines armed with paralo-ray guns, but there was no attempt to make the men feel as if they were criminals. Most of the sentences were short, usually running from five to thirty days, with some extreme cases serving as long as three months. But no one had ever remembered a Space Cadet working on the squad, and particularly for six months! It was an extraordinary situation and the guards, as well as the men on the work details, sympathized with Roger and Astro. They realized that nothing really serious had been done, or the boys would have been sent to the prison asteroid, where all true criminals were sent. So a true spirit of comradeship developed between the cadets and the enlisted men.

When Captain Strong arrived to speak to Roger and Astro, he found them in the tunnel, working as a team of a shoveler and a sweeper. Roger would sweep up a little pile of dirt and Astro would shovel it into a handcart nearby.

“All right, you Venusian pug!” bawled Roger. “Police the joint!”