Chapter 12

“How much longer before we reach the atmosphere of Tara, Manning?” asked Loring.

Roger bent over the chart table and quickly measured the distance between his present position and that of Tara.

“About two hours,” he said, straightening up.

“Good!” said Loring. “Let me know soon as we get close.”

“O.K.,” replied the cadet.

“Hey, radar deck!” Mason’s voice came over the intercom from the power deck of the Space Devil. “Don’t forget to let me know when I have to cut down on thrust!”

“Take it easy, spaceboy,” snapped Roger. “You’ll know in plenty of time!” He turned back to the radar scanner and continued the never-ending sweep of space ahead.

After a week of checking and reconditioning the Space Devil in the wild Venusian jungles, Roger had become more and more disgusted with himself. Being a wanted spaceman had had its disadvantages on Spaceman’s Row, but working in the steaming jungles, fighting deadly reptiles and insects, with Loring and Mason on his neck every minute had soured his appetite for adventure. Several times, when Roger had suggested a certain part be replaced, Loring and he had argued violently, and Roger had threatened to quit. Now, after the long tedious trip through space, Roger’s relationship with the others was more strained than ever. The sure dependability of Tom on the control deck and Astro on the power deck made the work of Loring and Mason sloppy by comparison. Once, when Roger had been on radar watch, while the ship roared through the asteroid belt, collision with a small asteroid had threatened. Roger ordered a course change, but Mason, who had taken over the power deck, had been asleep. Luckily, Shinny had been near by, had made the course change, and saved the ship. Seething with anger, Roger had gone to the power deck and given the shiftless spaceman a terrific beating.

Over and over, conflicts had arisen among them as they blasted through deep space, and always, it seemed to Roger, he was in the middle of it. The only satisfaction he could find in the hazardous venture was the prospect of the five million credits. And even this had lost its excitement in the last few days, as his nerves stretched to the breaking point. Only the sly humor of Shinny had saved Roger from the monotony of the long haul through space.

Roger absently flipped the scanner to its farthest range. He had been observing the planet Tara for several hours and knew its shape fairly well. But he suddenly jerked to attention. His hands trembled slightly as he peered intently at the scope. Finally he slumped back. There was no doubt about it. On the scanner was a jet boat in flight.

“Hey, Loring! Shinny! Mason! Get up here on the double!” he yelled into the intercom.

“What’s up?” demanded Loring.

“Get up here!” shouted Roger. “We’re in for trouble--plenty of trouble!”

Presently the three spacemen were grouped around the scanner, staring at the unmistakable outline of a jet boat.

“By the rings of Saturn,” declared Loring, “it must be Connel and his crew!”

“What’re we going to do?” whined Mason.

Loring’s face darkened. “Only one thing we can do now,” he growled.

“What do you mean?” asked Roger.

“I mean that we’re going to blast them!” Loring snarled. “Connel and whoever else is with him!”

“But--but--” stammered Roger, “the Polaris crew is down there!”

“Listen, Manning!” Loring turned to the cadet. “Have you forgotten that you’re wanted by the Solar Guard? You give that bunch down there a chance and they’ll make you a space crawler on prison rock!”

“Why--I--” stammered Roger. He knew what Loring had said was the truth. If it was Connel, there would be no question what would happen to him. He faced Loring. “What will you do to them?”

“One well-placed reactant bomb, and they’ll never know a thing!” sneered Loring.

“But you don’t have any bombs aboard,” said Roger.

“A little of the fuel and I can build one easily enough,” replied Loring. He turned to Mason. “Go below and suit up to go into the reaction chamber,” he ordered. “Get an extra lead suit out. I’ll go in and help you. And find something we can use for a trigger and a fuse.” He smiled at Roger. “It might be a little crude, but it’ll be fancy enough for what we want. I’m going to blast the Polaris from here back to your sweet little Space Academy!”

Mason and Loring left the radar bridge while Shinny and Roger watched the white blip of the jet boat.

“That could be Tom and Astro in that jet boat,” said Roger softly to himself.

“I guess I’d better stand by the power deck while we maneuver,” said Shinny. “We wanta stay hidden until Loring and Mason get that thing ready.”

Roger nodded, and Shinny disappeared.

Maneuvering cautiously, Roger brought the Space Devil around to the night side of Tara opposite to the landing site of the Polaris.

Four hours later Loring and Mason came out of the reactant chamber carrying a small lead box. They placed it gently on the deck and began taking off their lead suits. Roger and Shinny stared at the box.

“There she is,” said Loring. “Not much to look at, but there’s enough juice in there to blast the Polaris into space junk!”

“Wait a minute, Loring!” said Roger. “There’ll be no killing! No one gets hurt!”

“Got a squeamish stomach, eh, kid?” Loring laughed. He slapped Mason on the back. “Our little Space Cadet is suddenly worrying about his friends. The same friends that wanted to send him away to the prison asteroid.”

“Blast the ship if you want,” said Roger coldly, “but don’t hurt the crew!”

“Listen, Manning!” snarled Loring. “If the crew gets hurt it ain’t my fault. If they’re in the ship, that’s tough. If not, then that’s O.K. with me. I ain’t sending them any letter telling them I’m going to blast their ship and then have them come up after me with a space torpedo!”

Roger didn’t answer. He turned away and climbed back to the radar bridge. Loring followed him up the ladder.

“Don’t get any ideas about warning your buddies, Manning, ‘cause if you do, I’ll blast you before I blast them!”

“Don’t worry,” replied Roger. “It’s daytime on the other side of Tara now, where the Polaris is. The crew might be out on a scouting mission or making observations away from the ship. There’s less chance of their being on the ship. If we’re going to do it, let’s get it over with!”

“O.K. with me,” said Loring. “Take this wagon up toward Alpha Centauri a little way. Coming out of the sun, they won’t see us. We’ll use one of the jet boats to deliver our little present. I’ll set the fuse, put the jet boat on automatic, and aim it right for the Polaris.”

“All right,” agreed Manning reluctantly. He turned to the chart table, plotted a course, and issued orders to Shinny at the controls and to Mason on the power deck. Soon the Space Devil was blasting away from the night side of the planet, heading toward the sun. When they reached an altitude of a thousand miles above the surface of the planet, Loring maneuvered the jet boat into position outside the ship and placed the crude reactant bomb inside. Ready, he gave Roger the signal to make the run out of the sun toward the Polaris. Roger relayed the orders to Shinny and Mason, and the Space Devil rocketed back toward the planet again.