Chapter 9

The three members of the Polaris unit stepped off the slidewalk at the Academy spaceport and stood before Warrant Officer McKenny.

“There she is,” said the stubby spaceman, pointing to the gleaming spaceship resting not two hundred feet away. “Rocket cruiser Polaris. The newest and fastest ship in space.”

He faced the three boys with a smile. “And she’s all yours. You earned her!”

Mouths open, Tom, Roger and Astro stood gaping in fascination at the mighty spaceship resting on the concrete ramp. Her long two-hundred-foot polished beryllium steel hull mirrored the spaceport scene around them. The tall buildings of the Academy, the “ready” line of space destroyers and scouts, and the hundreds of maintenance noncoms of the enlisted Solar Guard, their scarlet uniforms spotted with grime, were all reflected back to the Polaris unit as they eyed the sleek ship from the needlelike nose of her bow to the stubby opening of her rocket exhausts. Not a seam or rivet could be seen in her hull. At the top of the ship, near her nose, a large blister made of six-inch clear crystal indicated the radar bridge. Twelve feet below it, six round window ports showed the position of the control deck. Surrounding the base of the ship was an aluminum scaffold with a ladder over a hundred feet high anchored to it. The top rung of the ladder just reached the power-deck emergency hatch which was swung open, like a giant plug, revealing the thickness of the hull, nearly a foot.

“Well,” roared the red-clad spaceman, “don’t you want to climb aboard and see what your ship looks like inside?”

“Do we!” cried Tom, and made a headlong dash for the scaffold. Astro let out one of his famous yells and followed right at his heels. Roger watched them running ahead and started off at a slow walk, but suddenly, no longer able to resist, he broke into a dead run. Those around the Polaris stopped their work to watch the three cadets scramble up the ladder. Most of the ground crew were ex-spacemen like McKenny, no longer able to blast off because of acceleration reaction. And they smiled knowingly, remembering their reactions to their first spaceship.

Inside the massive cruiser, the boys roamed over every deck, examining the ship excitedly.

“Say look at this!” cried Tom. He stood in front of the control board and ran his hands over the buttons and switches. “This board makes the manual we worked on at the Academy look like it’s ready for Galaxy Hall!”

“Yeeeooooooww!” Three decks below, Astro had discovered the rocket motors. Four of the most powerful ever installed on a spaceship, enabling the Polaris to outrace any ship in space.

Roger stuck his head through the radar-bridge hatch and gazed in awe at the array of electronic communicators, detection radar and astrogation gear. With lips pulled into a thin line, he mumbled to himself: “Too bad they didn’t give you this kind of equipment.”

“What’d you say, Roger?” asked Astro, climbing alongside to peer into the radar bridge.

Startled, Roger turned and stammered, “Ah--nothing--nothing.”

Looking around, Astro commented, “This place looks almost as good as that power deck.”

“Of course,” said Roger, “they could have placed that astrogation prism a little closer to the chart table. Now I’ll have to get up every time I want to take sights on stars!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of complaining?” asked Astro.

“Ah--rocket off,” snarled Roger.

“Hey, you guys,” yelled Tom from below, “better get down here! Captain Strong’s coming aboard.”

Climbing back down the ladder to the control deck, Astro leaned over his shoulder and asked Roger, “Do you really think he’ll let us take this baby up for a hop, Manning?”

“Get your head out of that cloud, Astro. You’ll pull about three weeks of dry runs before this baby gets five inches off the ground.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Manning!” Strong’s voice boomed out as he climbed up through the control-deck hatch. The three boys immediately snapped to attention.

Strong walked around the control deck, fingering the controls lightly.

“This is a fine ship,” he mused aloud. “One of the finest that scientific brains can build. She’s yours. The day you graduate from the Academy, IF you graduate, and I can think of about a thousand reasons why you won’t, you’ll command an armed rocket cruiser similar to this. As a matter of fact, the only difference between this ship and those that patrol the space lanes now is in the armament.”

“Don’t we have any arms aboard at all, sir?” asked Tom.

“Small arms, like paralo-ray pistols and paralo-ray rifles. Plus four atomic war heads for emergency use,” replied Strong.

Seeing a puzzled expression cross Astro’s face, the Solar Guard officer continued, “You haven’t studied armament yet, Astro, but paralo rays are the only weapons used by law-enforcement agencies in the Solar Alliance. They work on a principle of controlled energy, sending out a ray with an effective range of fifty yards that can paralyze the nervous system of any beast or human.”

“And it doesn’t kill, sir?” inquired Astro.

“No, Astro,” replied Strong. “Paralyzing a man is just as effective as killing him. The Solar Alliance doesn’t believe you have to kill anyone, not even the most vicious criminal. Freeze him and capture him, and you still have the opportunity of making him a useful citizen.”

“But if you can’t?” inquired Roger dryly.

“Then he’s kept on the prison asteroid where he can’t harm anyone.” Strong turned away abruptly. “But this isn’t the time for a general discussion. We’ve got work to do!”

He walked over to the master control panel and switched the teleceiver screen. There was a slight buzz, and a view of the spaceport outside the ship suddenly came into focus, filling the screen. Strong flipped a switch and a view aft on the Polaris filled the glowing square. The aluminum scaffolding was being hauled away by a jet truck. Again the view changed as Strong twisted the dials in front of him.

“Just scanning the outside, boys,” he commented. “Have to make sure there isn’t anyone near the ship when we blast off. The rocket exhaust is powerful enough to blow a man two hundred feet, to say nothing of burning him to death.”

“You mean, sir--” began Tom, not daring to hope.

“Of course, Corbett,” smiled Strong. “Take your stations for blast-off. We raise ship as soon as we get orbital clearance from spaceport control!”

Without waiting for further orders, the three boys scurried to their stations.

Soon the muffled whine of the energizing pumps on the power deck began to ring through the ship, along with the steady beep of the radar scanner on the radar bridge. Tom checked the maze of gauges and dials on the control board. Air locks, hatches, oxygen supply, circulating system, circuits, and feeds. In five minutes the two-hundred-foot shining steel hull was a living thing as her rocket motors purred, warming up for the initial thrust.

Tom made a last sweeping check of the complicated board and turned to Captain Strong who stood to one side watching.

“Ship ready to blast off, sir,” he announced. “Shall I check stations and proceed to raise ship?”

“Carry on, Cadet Corbett,” Strong replied. “Log yourself in as skipper with me along as supercargo. I’ll ride in the second pilot’s chair.”

Tom snapped a sharp salute and added vocally, “Aye, aye, sir!”

He turned back to the control board, strapped himself into the command pilot’s seat and opened the circuit to the spaceport control tower.

“Rocket cruiser Polaris to spaceport control,” he droned into the microphone. “Check in!”

“Spaceport control to Polaris,” the voice of the tower operator replied. “You are cleared for blast-off in two minutes. Take out--orbit 75 ... repeat... 75...”

“Polaris to spaceport control. Orders received and understood. End transmission!”

Tom then turned his attention to the station check.