Chapter 3

“Blast off--minus--five--four--three--two--one--zero!”

As the main drive rockets blasted into life, Tom fell back in his seat before the control panel of the Polaris and felt the growing thrust as the giant ship lifted off the ground, accelerating rapidly. He kept his eyes on the teleceiver screen and saw Space Academy fall away behind them. On the power deck Astro lay strapped in his acceleration cushion, his outstretched hand on the emergency booster rocket switch should the main rockets fail before the ship could reach the free fall of space. On the radar bridge Roger watched the far-flung stars become brighter as the rocket ship hurtled through the dulling layers of the atmosphere.

As soon as the ship reached weightless space, Tom flipped on the gravity generators and put the Polaris on her course to Venus. Almost immediately the intercom began to blast.

“Now hear this!” Major Connel’s voice roared. “Corbett, Manning, and Astro! I don’t want any of your space-blasted nonsense on this trip! Get this ship to Venusport in the shortest possible time without burning out the pump bearings. And, Manning--!”

“Yes, sir,” replied the blond-haired cadet.

“If I so much as hear one wisecrack between you and that overgrown rocket jockey, Astro, I’ll log both of you twenty-five demerits!”

“I understand, sir,” acknowledged Roger lazily. “I rather appreciate your relieving me of the necessity of speaking to that space ape!”

Listening to their voices on the control deck, Tom grinned and waited expectantly. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Ape!” came a bull-like roar from the power deck. “Why, you skinny moth-eaten piece of space junk--”

“Cadet Astro!”

“Yes, sir?” Astro was suddenly meek.

“If you say one more word, I’ll bury you in demerits!”

“But, sir--”

“No buts!” roared Connel. “And you, Manning--!”

“Yes, sir?” chimed in Roger innocently.

“Keep your mouth shut!”

“Very well, sir,” said Roger.

“Corbett?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m putting you in charge of monitoring the intercom. If those two space idiots start jabbering again, call me. That’s an order! I’ll be in my quarters working.” Connel switched off abruptly.

“You hear that, fellows?” said Tom. “Knock it off.”

“O.K., Tom,” replied Roger, “just keep him out of my sight.”

“That goes for me, too,” added Astro. “Ape! Just wait till I--”

“Astro!” Tom interrupted sharply.

“O.K., O.K.,” groaned the big cadet.

Glancing over the panel once more and satisfying himself that the ship was functioning smoothly, Tom sighed and settled back in his seat, enjoying the temporary peace and solitude. It had been a tough year, filled with intensive study in the quest for an officer’s commission in the Solar Guard. Space Academy was the finest school in the world, but it was also the toughest. The young cadet shook his head, remembering a six-weeks’ grind he, Roger, and Astro had gone through on a nuclear project. Knowing how to operate an atomic rocket motor was one thing, but understanding what went on inside the reactant pile was something else entirely. Never had the three cadets worked harder, or more closely together. But Astro’s thorough, practical knowledge of basic nucleonics, combined with Roger’s native wizardry at higher mathematics, and his own understanding of the theory, had enabled them to pull through with a grade of seventy-two, the highest average ever made by a cadet unit not specializing in physics.

As the ship rocketed smoothly through the airless void of space toward the misty planet of Venus, Tom made another quick but thorough check of the panel, and then returned to his reflections on the past term. It had been particularly difficult since they had missed many valuable hours of classroom work and study because of their adventure on the new colony of Roald (as described in The Space Pioneers), but they had come through somehow. He shook his head wondering how they had made it. Forty-two units had washed out during the term. Instead of getting easier, the courses of study were getting more difficult all the time, and in his speech on the parade grounds, Commander Walters had promised--

“Emergency!”

Roger’s voice over the intercom brought Tom out of his reverie sharply.

“All hands,” continued the cadet on the radar bridge hurriedly, “secure your stations and get to the jet-boat deck on the double! Emergency!”

As the sharp clang of the emergency alarm rang out, Tom did not stop to question Roger’s sudden order. Neutralizing all controls, he leaped for the hatch leading below. Taking the ladder four steps at a time, Tom saw Major Connel tear out of his quarters. The elder spaceman dived for the ladder himself, not stopping to ask questions. He was automatic in his reliance on the judgment of others. The few seconds spent in talk could mean the difference between life and death in space where you seldom got a second chance.

Tom and Connel arrived on the jet-boat deck to find Astro already preparing the small space craft for launching. As they struggled into space suits, Roger appeared. In answer to their questioning looks, he explained laconically, “Unidentifiable object attached to ship on fin parallel to steering vanes. Thought we’d better go outside first and examine later.”

Connel nodded his mute agreement, and thirty seconds later the tiny jet boat was blasting out of the escape lock into space.

Circling around the ship to the stern, the jet boat, under Major Connel’s sure touch, stopped fifty feet from the still glowing, exhaust tubes. He and the three cadets stared out at a small metallic boxlike object attached to the underside of the stabilizer fin.

“What do you suppose it is?” asked Astro.

“I don’t know,” replied Roger, “but it sure doesn’t belong there. That’s why I rang the emergency on you.”

“You were absolutely right, Manning,” asserted Connel. “If it’s harmless, we can always get back aboard and nothing’s been lost except a little time.” He rose from the pilot’s seat and stepped toward the hatch. “Come with me, Corbett. We’ll have a look. And bring the radiation counter along.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

Tom reached into a near-by locker, and pulling out a small, rectangular box with a round hornlike grid in its face, plunged out of the hatch with Major Connel and blasted across the fifty-foot gap to the stabilizer fin of the Polaris.

Connel gestured toward the object on the fin. “See if she’s hot, Corbett.”

The young cadet pressed a small button on the counter and turned the horn toward the mysterious box. Immediately the needle on the dial above the horn jumped from white to pink and finally red, quivering against the stop pin.

“Hot!” exclaimed Tom. “She almost kicked the pin off!”