Danger in Deep Space - Cover

Danger in Deep Space

Public Domain

Chapter 4

“Stand by to reduce speed three-quarters!” roared Major Connel.

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Tom, and began the necessary adjustments on the control panel. He spoke into the intercom. “Control deck to power deck. Stand by to reduce thrust on main drive rockets by three-quarters. We’re coming onto the space station, Astro.”

“Power deck, aye,” acknowledged Astro.

Drifting in a steady orbit around its mother planet, the Venus space station loomed ahead of the Polaris like a huge metal ball set against a backdrop of cold, black space. It was studded with gaping holes, air locks which served as landing ports for spaceships. Inside the station was a compact city. Living quarters, communications rooms, repair shops, weather observations, meteor information, everything to serve the great fleet of Solar Guard and merchant spaceships plying the space lanes between Earth, Mars, Venus, and Titan.

“I’m getting the identification request from the station, sir. Shall I answer her?” asked Roger over the intercom.

“Of course, you space-brained idiot, and make it fast!” exploded Connel. “What do you want to do? Get us blasted out of space?”

“Yes, sir!” replied Roger. “Right away, sir!”

Tom kept his eyes on the teleceiver screen above his head. The image of the space station loomed large and clear.

“Approaching a little too fast, I think, sir,” volunteered Tom. “Shall I make the adjustment?”

“What’s the range?” asked Connel.

Tom named a figure.

“Ummmmh,” mused Connel. He glanced quickly over the dials and then nodded in assent. Tom turned once more to the intercom. “Control deck to power deck,” he called. “Stand by for maneuvering, Astro, and reduce your main drive thrust to minimum space speed.”

“Space station traffic control to rocket cruiser Polaris. Come in, Polaris. This is traffic control on space station to Polaris,” the audio teleceiver crackled.

“Rocket cruiser Polaris to space station and traffic control. Request touchdown permission and landing-port number,” replied Tom.

“Permission to touch down granted, Polaris. You are to line up on approach to landing-port seven--repeat--seven. Am now sending out guiding radar beam. Can you read beam?”

Tom turned to the intercom. “Have you got the station’s guiding beam, Roger?”

“All lined up, Tom,” replied Roger from the radar bridge. “Get that Venusian on the power deck to give me a three-second shot on the starboard rocket, if he can find the right handles!”

“I heard that, Manning!” roared Astro’s voice on the intercom. “Another crack like that and I’ll make you get out and push this baby around!”

You execute that order and do it blasted quick!“ Major Connel’s voice exploded over the intercom. “And watch that loose talk on the ship’s intercom. From now on, all directions and orders will be given and received in a crisp, clear manner without unnecessary familiarity!”

Connel didn’t expect them to acknowledge his order. The cadets had heard him and that was enough. He knew it was enough. In the short time it had taken them to traverse the immense gulf of space between the Academy and the station Connel had handed out demerits by fives and tens! Each of the cadets was now tagged with enough black marks to spend two months in the galley working them off!

Now, working together like the smooth team of junior spacemen they were, Tom, Roger, and Astro maneuvered the great rocket ship toward the gaping hole of the air lock in the side of the white ball-like satellite.

“Drop your bow one half degree, Polaris, you’re up too high,” warned the station control.

“A short burst on the upper trim rocket, Astro,” called Tom.

The great ship bucked slightly under the force of sudden thrust, and then its nose dropped the required half degree.

“Cut all thrust and brake your speed to dead ship, Polaris,” ordered traffic control.

Again Tom relayed the order to Astro, and a moment later the great ship hung silently in the airless void of space, a scant half mile from the station.

[Illustration: _The junior spaceman maneuvered the great rocket ship toward the air lock_]

Through the teleceiver Tom could see the jet boats darting out from the station carrying the magnetic cables. In a moment the lines were attached to the steel skin of the ship, and gradually the lines tightened, pulling the mighty spaceship into the waiting port. Once inside, the outer air lock was closed and the Polaris was slung in the powerful magnetic cradles that held her in a rigid position. Elsewhere on the satellite, quick calculations were made for the additional weight, and the station was counterbalanced to assure an even orbit around Venus.

Tom flicked the many switches off on the great board, glanced at the time of arrival on the solar clock, and reported to Major Connel.

“Touchdown at one-nine-four-nine, sir.”

“Very well, Corbett,” answered Connel. Then he added grudgingly, “That was as fine a job of control-deck operations as I’ve seen. Keep up the good work, spaceman.”

Tom gulped. The unexpected compliment caught him off guard. And he was even more pleased that for the first time Connel had referred to him as spaceman!

“I’ll be needed at the space station commander’s quarters for a while, Corbett,” said Connel. “Meanwhile, you and Manning and Astro acquaint yourselves with the station. Report to me back aboard the ship in exactly two hours. Dismissed.”

Tom saluted, and Connel disappeared toward the exit port.

“Well, spaceman,” Roger drawled casually from behind, “it looks like you’ve got yourself in solid with the old man!”

Tom smiled. “With a guy like that, Roger, you’re never in solid. Maybe I did get a pat on the back, but you didn’t hear him cancel any of those demerits he gave me for not signing the logbook after that last watch, did you?”

“Let’s get some chow,” growled Astro, who came hustling through the hatch. “I’m half starved. By the craters of Luna, how many times can you change course in five minutes?”

Astro referred to the countless times Tom had had to call for fraction-degree course changes in their approach to the gaping entrance port.

Tom laughed. “With Connel on the bridge, you’re lucky I didn’t give you twice as many,” he replied. “Can you imagine what would have happened if we had missed and hit the station?”

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