Chapter 3

“Where is Captain Strong?”

Startled, Commander Walters glanced up to see Major Connel enter his office, accompanied by Professor Hemmingwell. The thin little man scowled with irritation as he walked right up to the commander’s desk.

“I wanted Captain Strong here for this meeting,” the professor continued.

“Of course,” replied Walters. “Captain Strong should be here.” He turned to Connel. “Have you seen him, Connel?”

As Connel lowered his bulk into a soft chair, he sighed. “Steve is with his unit, chewing them out over that fight with the Capella unit.”

Walters grinned. “You heard about our trial, Professor?”

“Yes,” replied Hemmingwell stiffly. “Frankly, I cannot see how Captain Strong can ignore this meeting to hold hands with those infantile cadets.”

Connel’s face turned red and he glanced quickly at Walters, whose face was approaching the same color. Neither expected such a comment from a scientist.

“Professor,” said Connel heavily, leaning forward in his chair, “I assure you Steve Strong is not holding their hands. In fact, I would hate to be in those cadets’ shoes right now.”

Hemmingwell grunted and drew back from Connel’s burning glare. “Be that as it may,” he said. “I cannot see that the staff of this institution has done anything constructive for the last three days. So far as I’m concerned, this childish talk about a common fight has been a complete waste of time.”

“Professor Hemmingwell,” said Commander Walters, rising from his chair, “if there had to be a choice between your project, as valuable as it may be, and the valuable lesson learned today by my cadets, I’ll tell you right now that the lesson would come first. This was a very important issue. The cadets had their real taste of democracy in action today, down on a level where they could understand it. And, I dare say, there are quite a few boys who heard that childish talk, as you put it, and will remember it some time in the future when they are called on to act as officers of the Solar Alliance.”

Connel cleared his throat noisily. “I think we’d better get on with the meeting,” he said. “Do you have the plans and specifications, Hemmingwell?”

But the wiry professor refused to be dissuaded. He faced Commander Walters and wagged his finger under the spaceman’s nose.

“You have a perfect right to your own ideas concerning the education of your cadets!” he shouted. “But I have a right to my ideas regarding my space projectile operations. I’ve devoted a good part of my life to this plan, and I will not allow anything, or anyone, to stand in my way.”

Before Walters could reply, Connel jumped up and growled.

“All right! Now that we’ve got the speeches out of the way, let’s get down to work.”

Walters and the professor suddenly stopped short and grinned at the brusque line officer, who, for all his bullying tactics, knew how to take the edge off a touchy situation. Walters sat down again and Hemmingwell spread out several large maps on Walters’ desk. He pointed to a location on the chart of the area surrounding Space Academy.

“This is the area here,” he said, placing his finger on the map. “I think it is best suited for our purpose. Dave Barret and Carter Devers concur--”

“Someone mention my name?”

The sliding door to the commander’s office opened and a tall, distinguished man with iron-gray hair entered, followed by a handsome, younger man.

“Devers!” exclaimed Hemmingwell in obvious delight. “I didn’t expect you until this evening.”

“Got away earlier than I figured,” replied the elder man, who then turned to the two Solar Guard officers. “Hello, Commander Walters, Major Connel. Meet Dave Barret, my assistant.” He gestured toward the young man beside him and they shook hands in turn.

“Well,” said Devers, “have we missed anything?”

“Just starting,” replied Walters.

“Fine,” said Devers. “Oh, by the way, I want it understood, Commander, that while I am lending Dave to you to work on the operation with the professor, I’m not even going to let you pay him. He remains on my payroll, so you can’t take him away from me. The Jilolo Spaceways would be lost without him.”

Walters smiled. “All right with me,” he said.

“I don’t care who pays him, as long as he’s with me on this, Commander,” said Hemmingwell, wiping his glasses carefully. “That young man has a mind equipped with a built-in calculator.”

Dave Barret grinned in obvious embarrassment. “If Mr. Devers can devote his time to you for one credit a year as salary, I have no objections to working on this project,” he said. “In fact, I told Mr. Devers that if he didn’t let me come down here, I’d quit and come, anyway.”

Hemmingwell beamed. “Well, now, if Captain Strong were only here, we could get along with the business at hand.”

Devers frowned. “Why is he so important?” he asked.

“Steve has been placed in charge of procurement for the construction of the hangar and getting the spur line in from the monorail station,” replied Connel. “And that reminds me, Professor,” he continued. “Where is your hangar going to be? And where is that spur coming in from? Are we going to have a lot of building to do to get that blasted thing snaked over those hills?” Connel pointed to the protective ring of high rugged peaks that surrounded the Academy.

“That’s why Dave Barret here is so important,” replied Hemmingwell. “He figured out a way of tunneling through this section here”--he pointed to a particularly rugged section of the hills--”at half the cost of bringing it straight in on that plain there.”

Connel and Walters studied the map closely. “Very good,” said Walters.

“You think you can do it, Dave?” asked Connel.

“I’m sure I can, sir,” replied the young man.

“And save time?” growled Connel.

“I’ll have that line through, and in operation, bringing in the first haul of hangar material in three weeks.”

Impressed by the young man’s confidence, Connel turned to Commander Walters and nodded.

“Well, if you can do that, Barret,” said Walters, “Professor Hemmingwell will have to begin his operations now, won’t you, Professor?”

“That’s right,” said the wiry old man. “Right now, this very minute.”

Devers suddenly spoke up. “I would like to have one thing explained, Commander, unless, of course, it’s a breach of security, but--” He hesitated.

“What is it?” asked Connel.

“I’ve been going along with you for some time now,” explained Devers. “But I still don’t know the exact nature of the projectile you propose to build. What’s the purpose of it?”

“You certainly deserve an answer to that question,” said Commander Walters warmly. “You’ve contributed your services to this operation absolutely blindly. Now you should know everything.” He paused and looked at Hemmingwell and Connel, who nodded in return. “Carter,” he resumed, “we are going to create a spaceship that can launch a large projectile filled with cargo and send it to any small area.”

Carter Devers’ face lighted up. “You mean, you are going to fire payloads from space freighters instead of landing with them?”