Danger in Deep Space

CHAPTER 9

Tom didn't answer. When they had discovered that Roger was missing it had been a terrific blow. Unaware that Roger, in his confused state of mind, had been an easy victim to Loring and Mason's trickery and had innocently walked into their trap, the two cadets felt that his escape was a breach of trust. Roger had given his spaceman's word that he would confine himself to his quarters. Roger had broken that trust, and now the fact was being flashed around the entire solar system; Roger Manning was an escaped criminal!

"There's nothing we can do now," said Tom. "The whole universe knows it. He's finished! Washed up! The only thing that could save him now would be absolute clearance by the investigation. But since he's run out, I guess it must be the other way around. He was afraid he was going to get caught." Tom's voice was cold and bitter. "And we can't blame anyone but—"

"But Manning!" barked a voice behind them. Astro jumped up and snapped to attention. Tom turned to see Major Connel stride into the room. It was at Connel's insistence that Tom had been ordered to broadcast the alert for Roger.

"That's the last time I ever want to hear any sympathy for a man who broke his word!" snarled Connel.

"I have something I'd like to say to the major," said Astro in a deliberate voice, "as man to man!"

Even at attention, Tom jerked his head involuntarily to look at Astro. Connel's eyes narrowed. "Here it comes," he thought. "Well, I've handled rebellion of this sort before." He stepped close to Astro. So close in fact that the black and gold of his uniform brushed the massive chest of the cadet from Venus.

"You have permission to speak, man to man!" snapped Connel.

Astro paused for a moment. Then he relaxed and brought his eyes down to the level of the major.

"I am a human being, sir," said Astro in the deepest voice Tom had ever heard. It was strong and full of emotion, yet controlled. "And as long as I am a human being, I shall consider Roger Manning one of the finest men I'll ever know."

"Are you finished?" snapped Connel.

"No, sir, I'm not," said Astro. "I speak in defense of the man, the spaceman, not the uniform, or the trust he betrayed. And I respectfully request of the major that if his feelings for Cadet Manning are so violent that he finds it difficult to control them, that he make a special effort to control them"—Astro paused and stuck out his chin—"in my presence!"

Connel stepped back. "And if I don't?" he shouted.

"Then I shall ask for a transfer from your command, sir, and if that is not granted, then I shall resign from the Academy."

"And?" asked Connel.

"And, sir—" Astro stumbled.

"And what, Cadet Astro?" roared Connel.

"I have nothing more to say, sir," said Astro.

Tom, who had at first had to control an impulse to laugh at the strange seriousness of Astro's manner and tone, now found it equally difficult to hold back the tears that were welling up in his eyes.

Connel was not going to let the incident stand there. He had secretly hoped that such a situation would present itself, because he wanted to see what material the Polaris unit was made of. And he was secretly satisfied. Any cadet who would offer to resign from the Academy in defense of his unit-mate was a true spaceman. Connel wasn't going to allow Astro or Tom to resign over some foolish trick of Roger's, but, at the same time, he couldn't allow them to take too many liberties with discipline. Connel turned to Tom.

"I suppose you feel the same way, Corbett?" he asked.

"I do, sir," said Tom.

"Of course you know I could make your lives miserable now," he threatened.

"We are aware of that, sir," said Tom quietly.

"Very well, Cadets Corbett and Astro. I shall comply with your request. Not because of your request but out of respect for your feelings as spacemen. I wouldn't have thought much of you if you hadn't come out in defense of Manning. And just for your own sake, Astro," said Connel, stepping back in front of the big cadet, "never ask to talk to a Solar Guard officer man to man again. As long as you're still a member of the Cadet Corps such disrespect will not be tolerated. Another man, who might not have understood your feelings, could have used your desire for fair play as a means of trapping you into one of the worst offenses in the Spaceman's Code—striking a Solar Guard officer!"

"Yes, sir," mumbled Astro. "Thank you, sir."

"Report aboard the Polaris"—Connel glanced at his watch—"in fifteen minutes. I'm going to put you through your paces on hyperdrive and the operation of the transmitter."

"Then we're still going to make the trip to Tara, sir?" asked Tom.

"We certainly are, Corbett," replied Connel. "In two hours another cadet is arriving from the Academy to replace Roger. His name's Alfie Higgins. Perhaps you know him."

Tom smiled. "Yes, sir, we know him," he replied. "Cadet Higgins is a friend of mine. He carries the nickname of 'The Brain.' Has the highest I.Q. in the Academy."

"Good. I'm glad you know him, because this is going to be a rough trip. We got off to a bad start, but it's all over now. So forget it. And before I go, I want you to know this. In my personal opinion, Manning had nothing to do with the crash. I think the whole trouble was caused on the ship. I have nothing to back up my opinion, except my feelings. But feelings can go a long way in making a man innocent until proved guilty. Unit dis-missed!"

Alfie Higgins listened attentively to the story of the crash and Roger's disappearance as Tom, and then Astro, described the situation in detail.

"It is a pity, of course, but Manning was always the impulsive type. Not very definite in his attitude and emotionally unstable," commented Alfie when the story was finished.

"Lay off that talk, you overstuffed brain!" growled Astro. "In this outfit, Roger is just away on vacation!"

"Yes—yes, of course!" said Alfie quickly. It wasn't wise to get off on the wrong foot in a new unit, especially when one was trying to fill the shoes of a cadet, who, Alfie had to admit, had everything. Alfie Higgins' mother didn't raise any stupid children, he said to himself. He was too happy being a member of the Polaris unit, the hottest crew at the Academy, to allow anything to interfere with his success.

"I've heard a great deal about hyperdrive," he said quickly, changing the subject. "I would appreciate it if you could describe the basis of this new feature in space travel so that I may have at least a surface familiarity with its operation and application."

Astro gulped and looked at Tom. "Might as well get used to that kind of chatter, Astro," said Tom, smiling. "Alfie can't talk any other way."

"Is there something wrong with the way I speak?" asked Alfie, wrinkling up his nose a little to see through the thick lenses of his glasses.

"You wanta know about hyperdrive?" growled Astro.

"To be sure, if you'd be so kind," said Alfie.

"Well, if you'll close your trap long enough, I'll tell you about it!"

Alfie sat back and waited, hands clasped around one knee.

"In the first place," began Astro, "hyperdrive was developed by Joan Dale back at the Academy. And it's so blasted simple, I get mad at myself for not thinking of it first!"

"Uhhh," snorted Alfie. "I respect your great talent on the power deck, Astro, but I would hardly compare myself with Dale!"

"Shut up!" barked Astro. "You'll see how simple it is! Hyperdrive is based on the idea that the thrust of the rockets acts in the exact same way on all the atoms inside the spaceship. So you can have as much thrust as you want and no one will feel a thing. Even if the ship were to accelerate a million times faster than the gravity of the Earth you wouldn't feel a thing, because all the atoms inside would be pushed along at the same time!" Astro sat back triumphantly.

"Ummmmh," commented Alfie. "That sounds all right as a principle, but will it work out in space?"

"Listen, you—you—" snorted Astro.

"Sure it will, Alfie," said Tom. "It's been tested before."

"Still room for improvement, though," commented Alfie.

"I'll improve your head," barked Astro, "if you don't close that big mouth! How do you like that, Tom? We get rid of one space-gassing Romeo and now we get one even worse!"

Astro's reference to Roger made Tom draw a quick breath. In the short while since Alfie's arrival and the week since Roger's disappearance there hadn't been time to forget their old unit-mate and get accustomed to a new personality. Astro sensed Tom's feelings and irritably banged one hamlike fist into the other. Alfie was O.K., thought the big Venusian, but by the craters of Luna, he wasn't Roger.

"Attention—attention!" The intercom crackled into life. "Polaris unit—by order of Major Connel—stand by to blast off immediately. This is first warning! Pack your gear and stand by to blast off immediately."

Tom, Astro, and Alfie got up, and with the image of Roger fresh in their minds, made their way to the landing-port deck where the great gleaming spaceship was slung on magnetic cradles. They were met at the hatch by Major Connel.

"All right," he said, "we leave all thoughts of Manning right here on the station. I know it's tough, but we've got a still tougher job to do. This is to be a scientific expedition and we'll need every ounce of energy and intelligence we have—collectively—to make a success of this mission. Cadet Corbett!"

"Yes, sir," replied Tom.

"Stand by to blast off in five minutes!"

CHAPTER 10

Leaving the space station on the jet liner had been easy for Roger, since no one suspected he would violate his trust. But once his absence was discovered and the warrant issued for his arrest, it had been necessary for him to assume some sort of disguise to elude the Solar Guard MP's. Roger had wound up on Spaceman's Row in Venusport as a matter of course. Luckily, when he left the station, he had the foresight to take all of his money with him, so he was not yet in need.

On Spaceman's Row, Roger found the new freedom from discipline enjoyable at first, but now the novelty had worn off. Having visited all of the interesting places on the Row, existence there had become boring. His one attempt to leave Spaceman's Row had nearly met with disaster. Running into a squad of Solar Guard MP's, he had made a hurried escape into a near-by jet taxi. Back on the Row, Roger had lounged around the cafés, feeling the loneliness that haunts men wanted by the law. And only because he was so lonely he had agreed to talk to the little man who sat and stared at him from across the table.

"You a rocket pusher, astrogator, or skipper?" asked the little man.

"Who wants to know?" asked Roger cautiously.

"Look, sonny boy," was the quick retort. "I'm Mr. Shinny! I'm the fixer of Spaceman's Row. You want something, come to me and I'll get it for you. I don't care why you're here. That ain't none of my business. But the fact remains that you're here, and you don't come down here unless you're in trouble space deep!"

Roger looked at the little man more closely. "Suppose I am in something deep? What could you do for me?" he asked.

"What would you want done?" asked Shinny slyly.

"Well," said Roger casually, "I could use a set of papers."

"What happened to your own?"

"Solar Guard picked them up," answered Roger simply.

"For what?" asked Shinny.

"Taking ice cream away from the skipper's pet monkey!" snapped Roger.

Shinny threw back his head and laughed. "That's good—very good!" He wiped his mouth after spitting at a near-by cuspidor. He reached over and patted Roger on the arm. "You'll do, sonny! You'll do right well on the Row. Join me in a little acceleration sport?"

"What's that?" asked Roger.

"Rocket juice!" said Shinny. "Ain't you never heard of rocket juice?"

"I've heard about it," said Roger with a smile, "and I'm still here to talk about it because I never drank any of it." Roger liked the little man for some reason—he couldn't tell why. He had met several people on the Row since his arrival, but they had all wanted to know how many credits he had and where he was staying.

"I took a jolt of that stuff once in Luna City," said Roger. "I was ready to blast off without a rocket ship!"

Shinny laughed again. "Good lad! Well, you won't mind if I have just a little one?" He paused and wiped his lips. "On you, of course!"

"One"—Roger held up his finger—"on me, of course!"

"Hey, there!" yelled Shinny. "You, with the asteroid head! Gimme a short bucket of that juice and bring a bottle of Martian fizz along with it!" The bartender nodded, and Shinny turned back to Roger. "Martian fizz is nothing more than a little water with sugar in it," he explained.

"Yeah, I know," replied Roger. "What about those papers?"

"I'll talk to you, spaceman to spaceman," said Shinny, "when you're ready to talk to me, spaceman to spaceman!"

They were silent while the bartender slopped a glass full of bluish liquid in front of Shinny and the bottle of Martian fizz and a glass in front of Roger. Roger paid for the drinks and poured a glass of the mild sweet water. Sipping it silently, he suddenly put the glass down again and looked Shinny in the eye.

"You know who I am," he stated quietly.

"Yep!" replied Shinny. "You're Roger Manning, Space Cadet! Breach of honor and violation of the Spaceman's Oath. Escaped from the Venus space station on a jet liner. But one of the best men on a radar scanner and astrogation prism in the whole alliance!" Shinny related the information rapidly.

"He had known all the time," thought Roger. "He was testing me." Roger wondered why.

"What are you going to do about it?" questioned Roger, thinking about the one-thousand-credit reward, standard price offered by the Solar Guard for all wanted men.

"If I had wanted to, I could have bought the finest jet liner in space with money made on Solar Guard rewards," snapped Shinny. "We got our own spaceman's code here on the Row. It goes something like this. What a man wants to bring with him down here, he brings. What he don't bring, don't exist!"

Roger smiled and stuck out his hand. "All right, Mr. Shinny! I want a set of papers—space papers! Made out in any name, so that I can get out into space again. I don't care where I go or on what, or how long I'm gone. I just gotta blast off!"

"You want papers for the astrogation deck, or control, or as a power pusher?" asked Shinny.

Roger thought a moment. "Better make them for the control deck," he said.

"Credits," said Shinny. "You have any credits?"

"How much?" asked Roger.

"One hundred now," said Shinny, and then added, "and one hundred when I deliver."

"Guaranteed papers?"

"Positively!" snorted Shinny. "I don't sell things that ain't good! I'm an honest man!"

Roger reached inside his jersey and pulled out a small roll of crumpled credit notes. He counted off one hundred and handed them over to Shinny.

"When do I get the papers?" asked Roger.

"Tomorrow, same place, same time," answered Shinny.

"What's the name of this place?" asked Roger.

"Café Cosmos."

Roger picked up his glass of sweet water, raising it in a toast to the little man in front of him. "Until tomorrow, Mr. Shinny, when you come here with the papers, or I come looking for you with bare knuckles!"

"You don't scare me!" snapped Shinny. "I'll be here!"

Roger tilted his chair back and smiled his casual smile. "I know you'll be back, Mr. Shinny. You see, I really mean what I say. And more important, you know I mean what I say!"

Shinny got up. "Tomorrow, same time, same place," he said, hurrying out the door.

Roger finished the bottle of Martian fizz, suddenly very depressed. He didn't really want the false papers. He just wanted to get away from the deadly humdrum existence on Spaceman's Row. He walked wearily back to his scrubby little bedroom to wait for night to come. He hated to go back to the room, because he knew he would think about Tom and Astro and the Space Academy. Now he couldn't allow himself to think about it any more. It was past. Finished.

"You got who?" asked Loring.

"I said I got the best astrogator in the deep for ya!" snapped Shinny.

Loring looked at Mason and then suddenly burst out laughing, dropping his head on the table.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Shinny. "You got space fever or something?"

Mason, sitting quietly in the dirty hotel room, was grinning from ear to ear.

"So you got Manning for us, eh?" repeated Loring at last. "I wanta tell you something, Shinny. I was the one that got that kid to break outta that space station!"

"You what?" asked Shinny. The little spaceman had come to like the straightforwardness of Roger.

"That's right," said Loring. "When Mason and me loused up taking over the Annie Jones, that kid, Manning, was on the radar watch at the station. At the same time we were gonna crash into the station he crossed a coupla wires and was talking to his girl back on Earth! They think he fouled up the radar and caused the crash!"

"Then he's your fall guy," commented Shinny thoughtfully.

"Right," said Loring. "And now you come along and tell us that we can get him to astrogate us out to Tara! I tell ya, Mason, this is the greatest gag I've heard in years!"

"Yeah," agreed Mason, his weak mouth still stretched in a stupid grin, "but you have to be careful he never finds out it was us that got him into all his trouble!"

"Leave that to me," said Loring. "He'll never know a thing. In fact, he'll thank us for getting him off the station and then giving him a chance to get back in space." He turned to Shinny. "You got the ship?"

"I told you before," said Shinny, "there ain't anything to be had."

"Well, we gotta have a ship," said Loring. "A fortune waiting for us in the deep and no space wagon to go get it!"

"There is a ship," said Shinny. "Not too good, but a spaceship."

"Where?" asked Loring.

"Near Venusport. Out in the jungles, to be exact. Needs a little fixing, but it'll make a deep space hop well enough."

"Who does it belong to?" demanded Loring.

"Me," said Shinny, a strange twinkle in his eyes.

"You?" gasped Loring. "By the craters of Luna, where did you get a spaceship?"

"Fifteen years ago a freighter was forced down in the jungles right near Venusport," said Shinny. "I was prospecting near by for pitchblende, back when everybody thought Venus was loaded with it. I saw the crew leave in jet boats. Soon as they was out of sight I went over to take a look. I wanted to see if there was any grub I could swipe and save myself a trip back to Venusport for more supplies. Anyway, I went aboard and found the grub all right, but I got nosy about why they had made an emergency touchdown. I looked around the power deck and found they had busted their reaction timer. I got the idea then of fixing it up and bringing it back to Venusport to give them young jerks a surprise. I lifted her off the ground and then figured why should I give it back? Just move it someplace else and let the vines and creepers grow over it for a few days."

"Didn't the crew come back looking for it?" asked Loring.

"Did they?" chortled Shinny. "I'll say they did! Almost drove them poor fellers crazy. I guess they searched for that old wagon for three months before giving up."

"And—and you mean it's still there—and in good condition?" asked Loring.

"Needs a little fuel," said Shinny, "and probably a good overhaul, but I don't think there's anything serious the matter with it."

"By the craters of Luna," exclaimed Loring, "we'll blast off immediately!"

"Hold on," said Shinny. "I didn't say I'd give it to you."

"Well, what do you want for it?" demanded Loring.

"Now let me see," mused Shinny. "I figure that if you figure to get as much as twenty million credits out of the copper, a full quarter share ought to be about right."

"Five million credits for a—a ship that's been rotting in the jungle for fifteen years!" exclaimed Loring.

"She's in good shape," defended Shinny. "I go out there every six months or so and turn over the reactors just to keep 'em from getting rusty."

"Why didn't you try to do something with it before?" asked Loring.

"Never had no occasion to," answered Shinny. "Well, is it a deal, or isn't it?"

"Too much," snapped Loring.

"That's my price," said Shinny.

"I could take the ship and not give you anything," sneered Loring.

"If the Solar Guard looked for three months in that jungle, with a hundred men and instruments, do you think you'll find it?"

"I'll give you a fifth share," said Loring.

"Nope," said Shinny, "I've named my price. You either take it or leave it!" He glared at Loring.

Mason finally spoke. "Take it, Loring," he said, "and let's get out of here. I'm getting jittery over that investigation that's coming up on the station."

"All right," said Loring, "it's a deal. One quarter share for the ship."

"Done!" said Shinny—"Now I guess we'd better go talk to that boy Manning, eh?"

"Don't you think it'll be a little dangerous taking him along?" whined Mason.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," said Loring.

"If it was me," said Shinny, "I wouldn't give it a second thought. You're going into deep space. It ain't like a hop to Mars or Titan. This is as deep as you can go. If I was you, I'd want the best there is in my crew. And from what I've heard about that young feller, he's the best there is on the radar bridge. You know who his father was?"

"Who?" asked Mason.

"Ken—" Shinny suddenly closed his mouth tight. "Just another spaceman," he said, "but a good one!" He rose quickly. "Well, I'm supposed to meet Manning in an hour at the Cosmos."

The three men left the dingy hotel and walked out into the main street of Spaceman's Row. In a few moments they arrived at the Café Cosmos. Roger was already there, seated at the same table and watching the door. When he saw Loring and Mason with Shinny, he eyed them warily.

"Hiya, kid!" greeted Loring. "Glad to see you took my advice and got away from 'Blast-off' Connel." Mason waved a salute, and the three men sat down.

Roger ignored Loring and Mason, speaking directly to Shinny. "Did you complete our deal?" he asked softly.

"Nope," answered Shinny. "I brought you another one instead."

Roger held out his hand. "My one hundred credits—now!"

"Never mind the credits, kid," said Loring, "we've got more important things to talk about."

Roger continued to look at Shinny, his palm outstretched on the top of the table. "One hundred credits," he repeated coldly.

Reluctantly, Shinny handed over the money. Slowly, carefully, Roger counted the bills, and then, after putting them away, he turned to face Loring for the first time.

"You said you have something important to discuss with me?" he drawled.

"I see you learned fast, kid!" said Loring with a crooked smile. "I wouldn't trust Shinny as far as I could throw a comet!"

Mason laughed loudly. The other three merely glared at him, and he stopped abruptly.

"Here's the proposition, Manning," said Loring, leaning across the table. "I've gotta ship and I wanta make a hop into deep space. I want you to do the astrogation!"

"I'm interested," said Roger. "Keep talking."

Briefly Loring described the copper satellite, its potential value, and what they expected to get out of it. Roger listened without comment. When Loring had finished, Shinny told him about the ship and its condition. When Shinny finished, Loring turned to Roger.

"Well, Manning," he asked, "how do you like the setup?"

"How much do I get out of it?" asked Roger.

"One twentieth of the take," said Loring.

"There are four of us. One full quarter-share, nothing less," drawled Roger.

"One-fourth to Shinny and one-fourth to him," whined Mason. "That only leaves us a fourth apiece!"

"That's more than you've got now," snapped Loring. "All right, Manning, you're in!"

Roger smiled for the first time. "When do we blast off?"

"As soon as we get that space wagon in shape we hit the deep!" said Loring.

"I think I need a drink on that," said Shinny. He yelled for the bartender, who brought rocket juice and Martian fizz.

Roger picked up the glass of the sweet water and glanced around the table.

"What's the name of that space wagon you've got buried in the jungles, Mr. Shinny?"

"Ain't got no name," said Shinny.

Roger paused, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Then I propose we name her after the hearts of each of us here at the table."

"What's that?" asked Loring.

"Space Devil," said Roger.

Shinny grinned, his frail body trembling slightly from his silent laughter. He held up the glass of rocket juice.

"I propose a toast to the Space Devil!"

"To the Space Devil," said the others together.

"And whatever trouble she brings," added Roger softly.

CHAPTER 11

"I mean, sir," explained Alfie, "that I've just sighted Tara and I have to get a position check on her before we go any farther, to ensure that we traverse the same trajectory on our return trip and thus avoid the problem of finding a new and safe route back."

"Cadet Alfie Higgins"—Connel's voice climbed to a frenzied shriek—"if you are not on this control deck in ten seconds, I'll personally see that you are fed to a dinosaur when we touch down on Tara and you'll never return. Now get down here!"

Tom and Astro, who could hear the conversation over the intercom, were finding it very difficult to keep from laughing out loud at the innocence of Alfie and the outraged wrath of Major Connel.

Tom, particularly, had discovered that Alfie's innocent refusal to be bullied by Connel had made the time pass more quickly on the long haul through deep space. More than once he had seen Major Connel rage against the underweight cadet and become even more frustrated at his childlike resistance. It had helped Tom forget the empty feeling he experienced every time he called the radar deck and heard Alfie's mild voice instead of Roger's usual mocking answer. Astro, too, had managed to forget the loneliness he felt aboard the great cruiser by watching the antics of Alfie and Major Connel. More than once he had instigated situations where Alfie would get caught red-handed in a harmless error, and then he lay flat on the power deck, laughing until his sides ached, as he listened to Alfie and Major Connel over the intercom.

It had helped. Both Tom and Astro admitted it had helped, but it still didn't take away the dull ache each felt when an occasional remark, situation, or thought would bring Roger to mind.

Tom flipped the teleceiver on and waited for the blank screen to show him Tara. Connel stood to one side, also watching for the image of the planet to take form on the gray-black screen. A hatch clanked behind them, and Alfie stepped into the control deck to snap to his version of attention.

"Cadet Higgins reporting, sir," he said quietly.

Connel stepped in front of him, placed his hands on his hips, and bent slightly, pushing his face almost into Alfie's.

"Cadet Higgins, I want you to know I have taken all the blasted space-brained antics I'm going to take from you," said Connel quietly.

"Yes, sir," replied Alfie blandly.

"And," said Connel, shaking a finger in Alfie's face, "and if there is one more—just one more brazen, flagrant disregard of my specific orders, then, Cadet Higgins, I promise you the most miserable trip back to Earth you will ever know in your entire career! I promise you I'll make you sweat! I'll—I'll—" Connel stopped short and shuddered. Alfie's owl-eyed look of innocence seemed to unnerve him. He tried to resume his tirade, but the words failed him. He finally turned away, growling, "Higgins, get up on that radar deck and do as you're told, when you're told to do it and not when you want to do it! Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Alfie meekly. He saluted and returned to the radar deck.

"Corbett!" snapped Connel. "If I should appear to be losing control of myself when addressing Cadet Higgins, you have my official permission to restrain me. Use force if necessary!"

Tom bit his lip to keep from laughing and managed to mumble "Yes, sir." He turned quickly to the control board and began focusing on the planet lying dead ahead of the decelerating spaceship. They had been slowing down for several days, since their speed with the added hyperdrive had been increased greatly. The young cadet adjusted the last dial and the blue-green planet sprang into clear sharp focus on the screen.

"Why," gasped Tom. "Sir, look! It's just like Earth!"

"In more ways than one, Corbett," replied Connel. "What's our range?"

"I'd say we're close enough to reduce thrust to a quarter regular space speed, sir."

"Very well," said Connel. "Now look to the right on the screen. See that small dark patch over there in the middle of the planet?"

"Yes, sir," replied Tom.

"That's where we want to touch down," said Connel. "You stay here on the control deck and maneuver the ship closer in while I go to the radar deck and contact Space Academy on the transmitter. I've got to report that we expect to land soon."

"Very well, sir," said Tom. He turned and flipped the intercom switch. "Control deck to power deck," he said. "Check in, Astro."

"Power deck here," replied Astro. "What's up, Tom?"

"We just got our first good look at Tara. She's dead ahead. Major Connel's going to contact Space Academy, and I'm going to maneuver into our preliminary glide. Stand by for course changes."

"Make it an easy touchdown. I wanta get home, you know," replied Astro good-naturedly.

"O.K.," said Tom. "Better bring her down to one-quarter space speed."

"Hyper or regular?" asked Astro.

"Regular!" yelled Tom. "You give me a quarter on hyper and we'll go right through that planet!"

"One-quarter regular space speed," replied Astro.

Tom adjusted his controls for the speed reduction, while keeping his eyes on the teleceiver screen. He watched the planet grow larger before his eyes, and the terrain become more distinct. He could see two large oceans, the green-blue of the water reflecting the sunlight of Alpha Centauri brilliantly. Nearer and nearer the Polaris plummeted, and Tom could begin to distinguish the rough outline of mountain ranges along the horizon line. He switched to a larger view of the planet on the magnascope that revealed a splendor rivaling the beauty of his own cherished Earth.

"We'll be entering the atmosphere in a minute, Alfie," yelled Tom into the intercom. "Stand by to give range for touchdown."

"Radar deck, aye," reported Alfie. "Range at present five hundred miles."

"Power deck, check in!" yelled Tom.

"Power deck, aye," returned Astro.

"All set below?" asked Tom.

"All set," said Astro.

"Reduce thrust to minimum!" shouted Tom.

Deep inside the powerful ship, the roar of the mighty atomic rocket motors began to fade to a deep growling purr.

"Control deck to radar deck. Major Connel, sir?"

"What is it, Corbett?" asked Connel.

"We're ready for a touchdown. Do you want to take over the bridge?"

"Can't you do it, Corbett?" asked Connel.

"Yes, sir!" replied Tom.

"Then carry on," replied Connel. "I'm having some trouble trying to get through to the Academy on the transmitter. Can't understand it." There was a pause. "I have them now, Corbett! You carry on!" he shouted.

"Aye, aye, sir," said Tom. He turned his attention to the control panel, checking the many dials and gauges with one sweeping glance, and then concentrated on bringing the ship to a safe landing on the foreign planet. His fingers tingled as he reached for the switches that would bring the ship down on the first intergalactic world he had ever visited. In a flash, the curly-haired cadet remembered childhood dreams of doing just what he was doing at this moment, preparing to touch down on a new world, millions of miles away from his home near New Chicago.

"Range one hundred miles," reported Alfie over the intercom.

"Power deck, reduce thrust to absolute minimum!" ordered Tom. "I want as little sustaining power as you can give me without cutting out altogether, Astro."

"Can do!" said Astro. The ship slowed even more, then suddenly picked up speed again as the gravity of Tara began to tug at the space traveler.

"Stand by to fire braking rockets!" yelled Tom. He was all nerves now, sensitive to the throbbing of the great ship's motors, eyes fastened to the dials and meters on the control panel. There was no time to watch the scanner view of the onrushing planet now. He had to touch down blindly, using only his instruments. "Radar bridge, report!" snapped Tom.

"Range one thousand feet," reported Alfie, his calm voice in striking contrast to the nervous excitement in Tom's. "Seven hundred fifty—six hundred—five fifty—"

"Fire braking rockets!" rasped Tom into the intercom.

The great ship bucked under the sudden thrust of the huge braking rockets. The Polaris held steady for a moment, then gradually, as the pull of Tara began again, she settled back toward the dark-green jungles beneath her.

"Two hundred and fifty feet," reported Alfie. "One hundred and seventy-five—one fifty—" he droned.

"Ease her up, Astro," shouted Tom. "Easy! Ease her up, you Venusian clunk, we're dropping too fast!"

Once again, from the heart of the Polaris, there came a roaring blast of the powerful motors. The ship steadied once more and then slipped back into her fall toward the new planet under more sure control.

"Fifty feet," reported Alfie. "Forty—thirty—twenty—"

There was a brief pause, as if everything had stopped and they were held still by a giant hand, and then, suddenly, a rocking motion, a slight bump and rumble. Tom knew they were down.

"Touchdown!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "Touchdown! We made it—we made it!"

From the power deck, quiet except for the whining of the oxygen feed pump, Astro's bellow could be heard vibrating through the passageways.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeooooooooooooowwwwwww!"

Tom began shutting off the many circuits and switches and made a quick last-minute check of the now dead ship. Satisfied, he glanced at the great solar clock, noted the time in the log, and stepped to the ladder leading to the radar bridge.

"Cadet Corbett reporting, sir," said Tom, saluting smartly. "I wish to report, sir, that the Polaris made touchdown on the planet Tara at exactly seventeen fifty-nine, solar time!"

Connel, his great bulk bent over the tiny transmitter, was twirling the dials, his head encased in a vacuum earphone helmet to ensure perfect silence. He had acquired the knowledge of lip reading out of necessity on the power decks of the old chemical burners thirty years before, and while he couldn't hear what Tom had said, he knew what the report was.

"Very well, Corbett," he shouted, not being able to judge the volume of his voice. "Good job! Can't seem to pick them up at the Academy again. Had them once, then lost them. Am placing you in command of an expedition for a quick look outside. Arm yourselves with paralo-ray guns and rifles. Take a jet boat and under no circumstances are you to land. Dismissed! Oh, yes, one more thing. Take Alfie Higgins along with you and keep your eye on him. Report back in one hour!"

Tom felt a tingle of excitement run up his backbone as he heard the tough skipper give him permission to explore the planet.

He saluted and turned away, Alfie trailing him down the ladder.

"Hey, Astrooooo!" yelled Tom. "Get number-one jet boat out of the hatch. We're going for a look-see at this place!"

Tom went to the gun locker and took out three paralo-ray guns and rifles. He made sure each of them was fully loaded and then handed them to Alfie.

"Put these on the jet boat, Alfie. I'll be along in a minute."

Alfie took the guns and walked toward the jet-boat catapult deck. Tom returned to the radar bridge and stood before Connel.

"Would you see if there is any news of Roger, sir, when you make contact with the Academy?"

Connel read the cadet's lips and nodded his head. Tom turned and went directly to the jet-boat deck. Astro and Alfie waited for him inside.

"Brought along three space suits, Tom," said Astro. "You can never tell what we might run into."

"Good idea," said Tom.

The three cadets climbed into the jet boat, Tom taking the pilot's seat. He pushed a release button, and a portion of the Polaris' steel hull slid back. Tom pressed another button, gripped the wheel of the small space craft, and stepped on the acceleration pedal. The little red ship shot out of the open hatch and zoomed over the giant trees.

Traveling at a slow speed, Tom made a wide arc over the forest, checking his position against that of the Polaris before losing sight of it. He pulled the tiny ship up to one thousand feet, leveled off, set the automatic pilot, and took his first close look at Tara, four and a half light years from Earth.

From above, Tara seemed to be a quagmire of reptiles, dinosaurs, and dense vegetation reaching as high as the gleaming towers of Venusport and Atom City. Huge trees that spread their branches over an area of a thousand feet soared skyward, limbs and trunks wrapped in jungle creepers. Now and then Alfie would grasp Tom or Astro by the arm and point a wavering finger at a moving animal below, then gasp and fall back white-faced into his seat. While Tom was inclined to share Alfie's reactions, Astro took it in stride, having been exposed to the dangers of wild jungles on his own Venus.

The tiny jet boat raced out across the blue-green sea that swept up in giant swells along the snow-white sandy beaches. It was a temptation to set the small craft down and enjoy the pleasure of a swim after the many days of cramped, tortured living on the Polaris. But Tom remembered Connel's orders and also had a lot of respect for some of the things he had seen swimming in the water.

"Better get back," said Tom. He flipped the audiophone switch in the jet boat and spoke into a small mike.

"Jet boat one to Polaris. Jet boat one to Polaris. Cadet Corbett to Major Connel."

There was a crackle of static and then Connel's voice, vibrant and clear, filled the small cabin.

"Corbett!" he roared. "By the craters of Luna, I couldn't contact you. Return to the Polaris on the double!"

"Is there something wrong, sir?" asked Tom, apprehensive after seeing the wildness of the jungle below him.

"Wrong?" blared Connel. "News from Earth—from the Academy! Roger's been cleared of all charges."

"Cleared?" stammered Tom.

"Absolutely! When I sealed the radar bridge after the crash, a security officer examined the settings on the scanners and transmitting equipment. They showed that Roger had been on duty at the time—that he had been tracking the ship as he claimed."

"Then what was the reason for the crash?"

"Security isn't sure yet. An acceleration control lever is missing from the wreckage. And it wasn't broken off as a result of the crash. Now Loring and Mason are wanted for further questioning."

Tom looked at his unit-mate, Astro. The big Venusian had his head turned to one side; he seemed to be staring out over the vast writhing jungle.

"Astro, did you hear?" asked Tom softly.

"Yeah," mumbled Astro in a small, choked voice. "Just don't ask me to turn around."

CHAPTER 12

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.

Loring, sitting inside the jet boat, waited until they had reached an altitude of five hundred miles.

"All right, Manning," said Loring, "give me the course!"

Roger calculated the rotational speed of the planet, the Space Devil's altitude, and the speed of the jet boat. He drew a line between the Space Devil and Polaris, checked it on the astro compass, and reached for the intercom mike. He ran a dry tongue over his lips and called out the course.

"Course is one forty-three—" He caught himself and stared at the chart. Suppose Tom or Astro or anyone was near the ship? Even if he missed by several hundred yards, the bomb would certainly be fatal. If he only changed the course one degree, at a range of five hundred miles, it would miss the Polaris by several miles. And Loring wouldn't be able to see anything because of the dust cloud.

"Course corrected," said Roger. "New course is one forty-two!"

"One forty-two!" repeated Loring.

Roger sat back and waited for the small space craft to blast off from the ship. In his mind, he saw Loring setting the trigger on the bomb, adjusting the controls, setting the automatic pilot, and then pressing the acceleration button. Roger gripped the sides of the chart table and stared at the radar scanner. A fast-moving blip was streaking across its surface. Loring had started the jet boat.

His eyes showing his great fear, Roger watched the blip as it sped down like a maddened hornet toward the Polaris resting on its directional fins in the green jungle. He could hear the hatch slam closed below as Loring re-entered the ship, but he continued to watch the rapidly moving blip.

Suddenly it disappeared, and Roger knew it had reached Tara. He slumped back in his chair. His eyes were glassy, his ears deaf to the roar of triumph from below as Loring and Mason, watching the flight of the jet boat on the control deck teleceiver screen, saw it explode. Roger couldn't move. He had fired a reactant bomb at Tom and Astro.

"By the craters of Luna," roared Connel, "we've been attacked!"

The four Earthmen, exploring a valley several miles north of the Polaris, had been thrown to the ground when the bomb landed. Connel's reaction was immediate and decisive.

"Get into the jet boat! All of you! We've got to get back to the Polaris! If our ship is smashed, we'll spend the rest of our lives fighting this jungle!"

In a matter of seconds the four spacemen were rocketing over the jungle toward the Polaris. Presently they came to an enormous dust cloud that had mushroomed out over the trees. It was so thick Tom found it difficult to pilot the small craft.

"Any danger of radioactivity in this dust, sir?" asked Astro.

"Always that possibility, Astro," answered Connel. "We'll know soon enough!" He flipped on a built-in Geiger counter on the dashboard of the jet boat, and immediately the cabin was filled with a loud ticking that warned of danger.

"The count is up to seven fifty, sir," said Astro. "Not enough to bother you unless you're in it a long time."

"There's the Polaris, sir," yelled Tom. "She's still on her directional fins! They missed her! She's O.K.!"

"By the blessed rings of Saturn, she is!" exclaimed Connel. "Go on, Tom, give this baby the gun! If we have to die, let's die like spacemen, in space, fighting with spaceman's weapons, not crawling around here in the jungle like worms!"

The three boys smiled at their skipper's rousing statement. "This is the time," thought Tom, "when I'd rather have Major Connel in command than anyone else in the Solar Guard." If there was to be a fight, then they certainly had found the man who knew how to do just that! Fight!