Danger in Deep Space

Over and over, they heard Tom's crisp clear count of time. Five minutes passed, then ten, and before they knew it, a full half-hour of the precious time had vanished. They completed the installation of the second unit and climbed back into the jet boats. The first two units had been buried at points protected from the sun by cliffs, and they had been sheltered from the burning rays.

But, approaching the position for the third reactor unit, Connel searched in vain for some shade. He wasted five precious minutes, scouting an area of several miles, but he could find nothing to protect them on the flat plain.

"Better put in the ultraviolet glass shields in our helmets, boys," he called into the jet-boat communicator. "It's going to be mighty hot, and dangerous."

"Aye, aye, sir," came the replies from the other two jet boats soaring close by.

Roger began refitting their space helmets with the dark glass that would shield them from the strong rays of the enlarging sun.

"Ever been outside in the direct path of the sun with no protection, Roger?" asked Astro.

"No," replied Roger. "Have you?"

"Once," said Astro softly. "On the second moon of Mars, Phobos. I was bucking rockets on the old chemical burners. I was on a freighter called the Happy Spaceman. A tube blew on us. Luckily we were close enough to Phobos to make a touchdown, or the leak would have reached the main fuel tanks and blown us clean out to another galaxy."

"What happened?" asked Roger.

"I had to go outside," said Astro. "I was junior rocketman in the crew, so naturally I had to do all the dirty work."

Tom's warning call from the Polaris control deck, tuned to the open communicators of all the jet boats, broke through the loud-speaker.

"Attention! Attention! Corbett to Connel. One hour and twenty minutes to blast-off time. One hour and twenty minutes to blast-off time."

The two cadets looked at each other as they heard Tom's voice, but neither spoke. Finally Roger asked, "What happened on Phobos?"

"No one bothered to tell me," continued Astro, "that I had to protect myself from the ultraviolet rays of the sun, since Phobos didn't have an atmosphere. It was one of my first hops into space and I didn't know too much. I went outside and began working on the tube. I did the job all right, but for three weeks after, my face was swollen and I couldn't open my eyes. I almost went blind."

Roger grunted and continued to line the clear plastic fish-bowl helmets with the darker protective shields.

Connel's voice rang through the cabin over the communicator: "I guess we'd better go down and get it over with. I don't see anything that will give us any protection down there. Be sure your humidity control is turned up all the way. As soon as you step outside the jet boat, you're going to be hit by a temperature of four hundred degrees!"

"Aye, aye, sir," came Shinny's reply over the intercom. Roger flipped the communicator on and acknowledged the order.

Astro and Shinny followed Connel's jet boat in a long sweeping dive to the surface of the satellite. Stepping out of the air-cooled jet boat onto the torrid unprotected surface of the flat plain was like stepping into a furnace. Even with space suits as protection, the five Earthmen were forced to work in relays in the digging of the hole for the reactor unit.

"Attention! Attention! Corbett to Connel. One hour exactly to blast-off time! One hour—sixty minutes—to blast-off time."

Tom flicked the teleceiver microphone off, and on the teleceiver screen, watched his spacemates work under the broiling sun. They were ahead of time. One hour to complete two more units. Tom allowed himself a sigh of hope and relief. They could still snatch the copper satellite from the powerful pull of the sun.

Suddenly Tom heard a sound behind him and whirled around. His eyes bulged in horror.

"Loring!" he gasped.

"Take your hand off that microphone, Corbett," snarled Loring, "or I'll freeze you!"

"How—how did you get out?" Tom stammered.

"Your buddy, Manning," sneered Loring with a short laugh, "decided he wanted to paste my ears back. So I let him. He was so anxious to make me lose a few teeth that he didn't notice the spoon I kept!"

"Spoon?" asked Tom incredulously.

"Yeah," said Mason, stepping through the door, a paralo-ray gun leveled at Tom. "A few teeth for a spoon. A good trade. We waited for your pals to leave the ship, and then I short-circuited the electronic lock on the brig."

Tom stared at the two men unbelievingly.

"All right, Corbett, get over there to that control board," growled Loring, waving the paralo-ray gun at Tom. "We're going back to Tara."

"Tara?" exclaimed Tom. "But Major Connel and the others—they're—they're down on the satellite. If I don't pick them up, they'll fall into the sun!"

"Well, ain't that too bad," sneered Loring. "Listen to that, Mason. If we don't hang around and pick them up, they'll fall into the sun!"

Mason laughed harshly and advanced toward Tom. "I only got one regret, Corbett. That I can't stay around to see Connel and the Manning punk fry! Now get this wagon outta here, and get it out quick!"

CHAPTER 19

The sun grew larger and the heat more intense with each minute, since each minute brought them almost thirteen hundred miles closer to the sun's blazing surface. With the humidity-control and air-cooling mechanisms in the space suits working at top capacity but affording little relief, Alfie, Roger, Shinny, and Astro buried the fourth reactor unit and headed for the fifth and last emplacement. Occasionally one of them would turn and cast a swift glance at the clear blue space overhead, secretly hoping to find the rocket cruiser had returned. Or, they would strain their ears for Tom's voice counting off the minutes so carefully for them. But they saw nothing and they heard nothing. They concentrated on their jobs, working like demons to complete the installations as planned. They could not stop now and wonder what had happened to the Polaris, or even hope for its speedy return. They had a job to do, and they went about it silently, efficiently, and surely.

Astro stood up, the small spade in his hand hanging loosely at his side. He watched Roger and Alfie bring the last of the reactor units from Major Connel's jet boat. They gently lowered it into the hole and stepped back while Shinny, under the watchful eyes of Major Connel, set the fuse. Shinny stepped back, and Astro began covering up the lead box.

"That's it," said Connel. "We're finished!"

What Connel meant was that they were finished with the placement of the reactor units, but he knew immediately that his words had been taken to mean something each felt but had not dared to put into words.

Connel started to correct this misunderstanding but caught himself in time. It would not do, he thought, for him to make excuses for what they knew to be the truth.

"All right, everyone in my jet boat," he snapped. "Astro, you and Roger take all the fuel out of the other boats and pour it into mine. It'll be a tight squeeze, but we can all fit into one craft. No use expending fuel wastefully."

Astro and Roger bent to the task of draining the fuel from their jet boats and loading it into Connel's.

Alfie came over to join them, while Shinny and Connel scanned the sky overhead for some sign of the Polaris.

"This is really a desperate situation to be in, isn't it, Roger?" asked Alfie.

"Offhand, I'd say yes," drawled Roger, "but since we've got two big huskies like Astro and Major Connel along, I don't think we'll have much trouble."

"Why not?" asked Alfie.

"We'll just let them get out and help push!"

"And if that doesn't work," snorted Astro, "we'll stick Manning outside and let him talk about himself. That oughta give us enough gas to get us away from this hunk of copper."

"I believe," said Alfie emphatically, "that you're joshing me, Manning."

"Now, whatever gave you that idea?" asked Roger in a hurt tone.

"This is a serious situation, isn't it?" asked Alfie, looking at Astro.

"It sure is, Alfie," said Astro soberly, "and I'm the first one to say I'm a little scared!"

Alfie smiled. "I'm very glad you said that, Astro," he said, "because I feel exactly the same way!" He turned and walked back to Major Connel.

"What was the idea of telling him that?" hissed Roger at Astro. "What are you trying to do? Get the little guy space happy, or something?"

"Look at him!" said Astro. "I'm twice his size. He figures if a big guy like me is scared, then he's got a right to be scared too!"

Roger grunted in appreciation of the way Astro had treated Alfie's fears and turned back to the loading of the fuel.

Major Connel walked over and watched them transfer the last of the fuel into the tanks.

"How much have you got there, Astro?" he asked.

"I'd say enough to sustain flight for about three hours, sir. Considering we'll have such a big load."

"Ummmmh," mused Connel. "You know we're up against big odds, don't you?"

Roger and Astro nodded.

"If Tom doesn't come back soon, we'll be so far into the pull of the sun, even a ship the size of the Polaris wouldn't be able to break out."

"How much time have we got, sir?" asked Roger.

"Not too much, Manning," said Connel. "Of course we can blast off in the jet boat and get up a few hundred miles, in case Tom does come back. Then he won't have to bring the Polaris down here. But if time runs out on us up there, we'll have to come back and take our chance on Junior being blasted out of the sun's grip."

There was a pause while Astro and Roger considered this.

"That would mean," asked Roger, "that we'd be here when the reactor units go off, wouldn't it, sir?"

"That's right, Manning," said Connel, admitting to the danger. "Even if Junior were blasted out of the pull of the sun, we couldn't survive the explosions."

"Couldn't we blast off in the jet boat and then land after the explosions, sir?" asked Astro.

"Yes," admitted Connel, "we could do that. But the radioactivity would be so powerful we couldn't last more than a few days. We have no antiradiation gear. Not even food or water." He paused and scanned the sky. "No," he said in a surprisingly casual voice, "the only way we can get out of this is for Tom to come back and get us."

Shinny and Alfie came over and joined the group around the jet boat. No one said anything. There wasn't anything to say. Each of them felt the heat burning through his space suit. Each felt the same fear tugging at his throat. There was nothing to say. The Polaris was not to be seen; the sky was empty of everything except Alpha Centauri, the great burning mass of gases that once they had all seen only as a quiet twinkling star in the heavens, never dreaming that someday it would be pulling them relentlessly into its molten self.

Tom Corbett had a plan.

He sat at the control board of the great rocket cruiser, apparently watching the needles and gauges on the panel, but his mind was racing desperately. The two-hour deadline had just passed. The great solar clock had swung its red hand past the last second. Only a miracle could save the five men on Junior now. But Tom was not counting on miracles. He was counting on his plan.

"Keep this space wagon driving, Corbett!" ordered Loring from behind him. "Keep them rockets wide open!"

"Listen, Loring," pleaded Tom. "How about giving those fellows a break? If I don't pick them up, they'll all be killed."

"Ain't that too bad," snarled Mason.

"Look," said Tom desperately, "I'll promise you nothing will happen to you. We'll let you go free. We'll—"

Loring cut him off. "Shut your trap and concentrate on them controls! You and Major Connel and them other punks are the only guys between me staying free or going back to a prison asteroid. So you don't think I'm going to let them stay alive, do you?" He grinned crookedly.

"You dirty space crawler!" growled Tom and suddenly leaped up from the control seat.

Loring raised the paralo-ray gun threateningly. "One more move outta you and I'll freeze you so solid you'll think you're a chunk of ice!" he yelled.

Mason stepped to the other side of the control deck. They had Tom blocked on either side.

"Now get back to them controls, Corbett," snarled Loring, "or I'll give it to you right now."

"O.K., Loring, you win," said Tom. He sat down and faced the control panel. He tried hard not to smile. They had fallen for it. Now they were separated. Mason remained on the opposite side of the room. Tom took a deep breath, crossed his fingers, and put the next step of his plan into action. He reached out and pulled the master acceleration switch all the way back. The Polaris jumped ahead as if shot out of a cannon.

"Hey," growled Mason, "what're you doing?"

"You want more speed, don't you?" demanded Tom.

"O.K.," said Mason, "but don't try any funny stuff!"

"I don't see how I can. You've got me nailed with that paralo-ray," Tom replied.

He got up leisurely, so as not to excite the nervous trigger finger of Loring, and turned slowly.

"What is it this time?" demanded Loring.

"I just gave you an extra burst of speed. All the Polaris will take. Now I've got to adjust the mixture of the fuel, otherwise she'll kick out on you and we'll have to clean out the tubes."

"Yeah," sneered Loring. "Well, I happen to know you do that right on the control board." He motioned with the paralo-ray gun. "Get back down!"

"On regular space drive, you do," agreed Tom. "But we're on hyperdrive now. It has to be done there"—he pointed to a cluster of valves and wheels at one side of the control deck—"one of those valve wheels."

"Stay where you are," said Mason. "I'll do it!" He moved to the corner. "Which one is it?" he asked.

Tom gulped and struggled hard to keep the terrible nervousness out of his voice. He had to sound as casual as possible. "The red one. Turn it to the right, hard!" he said.

Loring sat down and Mason bent over the valve wheel. He gave the wheel a vicious twist. Suddenly there was the sound of a motor slowing down somewhere inside the great ship. Tom gripped the edge of the control board and waited. Slowly at first, but surely, Tom felt himself beginning to float off his chair.

"Hey!" yelled Mason. "I'm—I'm floating!"

"It's the gravity generators," yelled Loring. "Corbett's pulled a fast one. We're in free fall!"

Tom lifted his feet and pushed as hard as he could against the control panel. He shot out of the chair and across the control room just as Loring fired his ray gun. There was a loud hiss as the gun was fired, and then the thud of a body against the wall, as Loring was suddenly shoved by the recoil of the charge.

Tom huddled in the upper corner of the control deck like a spider, his legs drawn up underneath him waiting for Mason to fire. But the smaller spaceman was tumbling head over heels in the center of the room. The more he exerted himself, the more helpless he became. His arms and legs splayed out in an effort to level himself, as he kept trying to fire the ray gun.

Tom saw his chance and lunged through the air again, straight at the floating spaceman. He passed him in mid-air. Mason made an attempt to grab him, but Tom wrenched his body to one side and pulled the ray gun out of the other's hand.

He flipped over and turned his attention to Loring who was more dangerous, since he was now backed up against a bulkhead waiting for Tom to present a steady target. Loring started to fire, but Tom saw him in time and shot away from the wall toward the hatch. He twisted his body completely around, and with his shoulder hunched over, fired at Loring with his ray gun. The charge hit the target and Loring became rigid, his body slowly floating above the deck. His back to the wall, braced for the recoil, Tom brought his arm around slowly and aimed at Mason. He fired, and the spaceman stiffened.

Tom smiled. Neither of the spacemen would give him any more trouble now. He pushed slightly to the left and shot over to the valve that Mason had unwittingly turned off. Tom turned it on and clung to an overhead pipe until he felt the reassuring grip of the synthetic gravity pull him to the deck. Loring and Mason, in the same positions they had been in when Tom fired, settled slowly to the deck. Tom walked over and looked at both of them. He knew they could hear him.

"For smart spacemen like you two," said Tom, "you sure forgot your basic physics. Newton's laws of motion, remember? Everything in motion tends to keep going at the same speed, unless influenced by an outside force. Firing the ray gun was the outside force that will land you right on a prison asteroid! And you'd better start praying that I can pull those fellows off that satellite, because if I don't, you'll wind up frying in the sun with us!"

He started to drag them to a locker and release them from the effects of the ray blast, but, remembering their cold-blooded condemnation of Connel and the others to death on the satellite, he decided to let them remain where they were.

He turned to the control board and flipped on the microphone. He was too far away to pick up an image on the teleceiver, but the others could hear him on the audio, if, thought Tom, they were still alive.

"Attention! Attention! Polaris to Major Connel! Major Connel, can you hear me? Come in, Major Connel—Astro—Roger—somebody—come in!"

He turned away from the mike and fired the starboard jets full blast, making a sweeping curve in space and heading the Polaris back to Junior.

CHAPTER 20

"Yes, sir," said Roger. "There's just enough to get down." Roger sent the craft in a shallow dive. Suddenly the rockets cut out. The last of the fuel was gone. Roger glided the jet boat to a smooth stop on the night side of the planetoid.

"How much longer before the reactor units go up?" asked Shinny.

Connel turned, thinking he had heard something on the communicators, then answered Shinny's question. "Only four hours," he said.

The crew of spacemen climbed out of the jet boat into the still blackness of the night side of the planet. There wasn't anything left to do.

They sat around on the hard surface of the planet, staring at the strange stars overhead.

"You know," said Astro, "I might be able to set up something to convert some of the U235 in the reactors to fuel the jet boat."

"Impossible, Astro," said Alfie. "You'd need a reduction gear. And not only that, but you haven't any tools to handle the mass. If you opened one of those boxes, you'd be fried immediately by the radiation!"

"Alfie's right," said Connel. "There's nothing to do but wait."

Major Connel turned his face up as far as he could in the huge fish-bowl helmet to stare at the sky. His eyes wandered from star cluster to star cluster, from glowing Regulus, to bright and powerful Sirius. He stifled a sigh. How much he had wanted to see more—and more—and more of the great wide, high, and deep! He remembered his early days as a youth on his first trip to Luna City; his first sensation at touching an alien world; his skipper, old, wise, and patient, who had given him his creed as a spaceman: "Travel wide, deep, and high," the skipper had said to the young Connel, "but never so far, so wide, or so deep as to forget that you're an Earthman, or how to act like an Earthman!" Even now, years later, the gruff voice rang in his ears. It wasn't long after that that he had met Shinny. Connel smiled behind the protection of his helmet, as he looked at the wizened spaceman, who was now old and toothless, but who still had the same merry twinkle in his eye that Connel had noticed the first time he saw him. Connel had signed on as first officer on a deep spacer bound for Titan. Shinny had come aboard and reported to Connel as rocketman. Shinny had promptly started roaring through the passageways of the huge freighter in his nightshirt singing snatches of old songs at the top of his voice. It had taken Connel four hours to find where Shinny had hidden the bottle of rocket juice! Connel laughed. He looked over at the old man fondly.

"Say, Nick," said Connel, addressing the man by his given name for the first time, "you remember the time it took me four hours to find that bottle of rocket juice you hid on that old Titan freighter?"

Shinny cackled, his thin voice coming over the headphones of the others as well as Connel's.

"I sure do, Lou!" replied Shinny, using Connel's first name. They were just old spacemen now, reliving old times together. "Funny thing, though, you never knew I had two more bottles hidden in the tube chamber!"

"Why, you old space crawler!" roared Connel. "You put one over on me!"

Roger and Astro and Alfie had never known Connel's first name. They rolled the name over in their minds, fitting the name to the man. Unknown to each other, they decided that the name fitted the man. Lou Connel!

"Say, Lou," asked Shinny, "where in the blessed universe did you come from? You never told me."

There was a long pause. "A place called Telfair Estates, in the deep South on the North American continent. I was raised on a farm close by. I used to go fishing late at night and stare up at the stars." He paused again. "I ran away from home. I don't know if—if—anyone's still there or not. I never went back!"

There was a long silence as each man saw a small boy fishing late at night, barefoot, his toes dangling in the water, a worm wiggling on the end of a string, more interested in the stars that twinkled overhead than in any fish that might swim past and seize the hook.

"Where are you from, Nick?" asked Connel.

"Born in space," cackled Shinny, "on a passenger freighter carrying colonists out to Titan. Never had a breath of natural fresh air until I was almost a grown man. Nothing but synthetic stuff under the atmosphere screens. My father was a mining engineer. I was the only kid. One night a screen busted and nearly everybody suffocated or froze to death. My pa and ma was among 'em. I blasted off after that. Been in the deep ever since. And you know, by the blessed rings of Saturn, I'd be on a nice farm near Venusport, living on a pension, if you hadn't kicked me out of the Solar Guard!"

"Why, you broken down old piece of space junk," roared Connel, "I oughta—" Connel never finished what he was going to say.

"Attention! Attention! Roger—Astro—Major Connel—come in, please! This is Tom on the Polaris!"

As if they had been struck by a bolt of lightning, the five spacemen sat up and then raced to the jet boat.

"Connel to Corbett!" roared the major. "Where are you? What happened?"

"I haven't got time to explain now, sir," said Tom. "Loring and Mason escaped and forced me to take them to Tara. I managed to overcome them and blast back here. Meet me up about fifty miles above Junior, sir. I'm bringing the Polaris in!"

"No!" yelled Connel. "It's no use, Tom. We're out of fuel. We've used up all our power."

"Then stand by," said Tom grimly. "I'm coming in for a landing!"

"No, Tom!" roared Connel. "There's nothing you can do. We're too far into the sun's pull. You'll never blast off again!"

"I don't care if we all wind up as cinders," said Tom, "I'm coming in!"

The communicator went dead and from the left, over the close horizon of the small satellite, the Polaris swept into view like a red-tailed fire dragon. It shot up in a pretouchdown maneuver, and then began to drop slowly to the surface of the planetoid.

No sooner had the Polaris touched the dry airless ground than the air-lock hatch was opened. From the crystal port on the control deck, Tom waved to the men below him.

Shinny climbed into the lock first, followed by Astro, Alfie, Roger, and Connel. While Roger and Alfie closed the hatch, Astro and Connel adjusted the oxygen pressure and waited for the supply to build to normal. At last the hissing stopped, and the hatch to the inner part of the ship opened. Tom greeted them with a smile and an outstretched hand.

"Glad to have you aboard!" he joked.

After the back slapping between Roger, Astro, and Tom was over, Connel questioned Tom on his strange departure from the satellite.

"It was just like I told you, sir," explained Tom. "They got out of the brig," he paused, not mentioning the spoon that Loring had used or how he had gotten it. "They forced me to take them to Tara. I managed to get the gravity turned off and gave them a lesson in free-fall fighting. They're still frozen stiff up on the control deck."

"Good boy!" said Connel. "I'll go and have a talk with them. Meantime, Astro, you and Shinny and Alfie get below and see how much fuel we have in emergency supply. We're going to need every ounce we have."

"Aye, aye, sir," said Astro. The three hurried to the power deck.

Connel followed Roger and Tom to the control deck. Loring and Mason were still in the positions they were in when Tom had fired his paralo-ray. Connel took Tom's gun and switched to the neutralizer. He fired twice and the two men rose shakily to their feet. Connel faced them, his eyes burning.

"I'm going to say very little to you two space-crawling rats!" snapped Connel. "I'm not going to lock you in the brig; I'm not going to confine you in any manner. But if you make one false move, I'll court-martial you right here and now! You've caused enough trouble with your selfishness, jeopardizing the lives of six men. If we fail to get off this satellite, it'll be because you put us in this position. Now get below and see what aid you can give Astro. And if either of you so much as raises your voice, I'm going to let him take care of you! Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" mumbled Loring. "We understand, sir. And we'll do everything we can to—to—make up for what we've done."

"The only thing you can do is to stay out of my sight!" said Connel coldly.

Loring and Mason scuttled past Connel and climbed down to the power deck.

"Attention! Attention! Control deck—Major Connel! Sir, this is Roger on the radar bridge. I just checked over Tom's figures on thrust, sir, and I'm not sure, but I think we've passed the point of safety."

"Thanks, Roger," said Connel. He turned to the intercom. "Power deck, check in!"

"Power deck, aye," said Astro.

"Loring and Mason there?" asked Connel.

"Yes, sir. I'm putting them right to work in the radiation chamber, sir. I'm piling all emergency fuel into the reaction chambers to try for one big push!"

"Why?" asked Connel.

"I heard what Roger said, sir," replied Astro. "This'll give us enough thrust to clear the sun's gravity, but there's something else that might not take it."

"What?" asked Connel.

"The cooling pumps, sir," said Astro. "They may not be able to handle a load as hot as this. We might blow up."

Connel considered this a moment. "Do what you can, Astro. I have absolute faith in you."

"Aye, aye, sir," said Astro. "And thank you. If this wagon holds together, I'll get her off."

Connel turned to Tom who stood ready at the control panel.

"All set, sir," said Tom. "Roger's given me a clear trajectory forward and up. All we need is Astro's push!"

"Unless Astro can build enough pressure in those cooling pumps to handle the overload of reactant fuel, we're done for. We'll get off this moon in pieces!"

"Power deck to control deck."

"Come in, Astro," said Tom.

"Almost ready, Tom," said Astro. "Maximum pressure is eight hundred and we're up to seven seventy now."

"Very well, Astro," replied Connel. "Let her build all the way to an even eight hundred and blast at my command."

"Aye, aye, sir," said Astro.

The mighty pumps on the power deck began their piercing shriek. Higher and higher they built up the pressure, until the ship began to rock under the strain.

"Stand by, Tom," ordered Connel, "and if you've ever twisted those dials, twist them now!"

"Yes, sir," replied Tom.

"Pressure up to seven ninety-one, sir," reported Astro.

"Attention! All members strap into acceleration cushions!"

One by one, Shinny and Alfie, Loring and Mason, Astro and Roger strapped themselves into the acceleration cushions. Roger set the radar scanner and strapped himself in on the radar bridge. Connel slumped into the second pilot's chair and took over the controls of the ship, strapping himself in, while Tom beside him did the same. The whine of the pumps was now a shrill whistle that drowned out all other sounds, and the great ship bucked under the force of the thrust building in her heart.

In front of the power-deck control panel Astro watched the pressure gauge mount steadily.

"Pressure up to seven ninety-six, sir," he called.

"Stand by to fire all rockets!" roared Connel.

"Make it good, you Venusian clunk," yelled Roger.

"Seven ninety-nine, sir!" bellowed Astro.

Astro watched the gauge of the pressure creep slowly toward the eight-hundred mark. In all his experience he had never seen it above seven hundred. Shinny, too, his merry eyes shining bright, watched the needle jerk back and forth and finally reach the eight-hundred mark.

"Eight hundred, sir," bellowed Astro.

"Fire all stern rockets!" roared Connel.

Astro threw the switch. On the control board, Connel saw a red light flash on. He jammed the master switch down hard.

It was the last thing he remembered.

CHAPTER 21

"We made it, sir!" said Tom. "Astro gave us a kick in the pants we'll never forget!"

Connel grinned at Tom's excitement. There was reason to be excited. They were free. He turned to the intercom, but before he could speak, Astro's voice roared into his ears.

"Report from the power deck, sir," said Astro. "Acceleration normal. Request permission to open up on hyperdrive."

"Permission granted!" said Connel.

"Look, sir," said Tom, "on the teleceiver screen. Junior is getting his bumps!"

Connel glanced up at the screen. One by one the white puffs of dust from the reactor units were exploding on the surface of the planetoid. Soon the whole satellite was covered with the radioactive cloud.

"I'm sure glad we're not on that baby now," whispered Tom.

"Same here, spaceman!" said Connel.

It was evening of the first full day after leaving Junior before the routine of the long haul back to Space Academy had begun. The Polaris was on automatic control, and everyone was assembled in the messroom.

"Well, boys," said Connel, "our mission is a complete success. I've finished making out a report to Space Academy, and everything's fine. Incidentally, Manning," he continued, "if you're worried about having broken your word when you escaped from the space station, forget it. You more than made up for it by your work in helping us get Loring and Mason."

Roger smiled gratefully and gulped, "Thank you, sir."

Loring and Mason, who had eaten their meal separately from the others, listened silently. Loring got up and faced them. The room became silent.

Loring flushed.

"I'd like to say something," he began haltingly, "if I can?"

"Go ahead," said Connel.

"Well," said Loring, "it's hard to say this, but Mason and myself, well—" He paused. "I don't know what happened to us on the first trip out here, Major, but when we saw that satellite, and the copper, something just went wrong inside. One thing led to another, and before we knew it, we were in so deep we couldn't get out."

The faces around the table were stony, expressionless.

"Nobody deserves less consideration than me and Mason. And—well, you know yourself, sir, that we were pretty good spacemen at one time. You picked us for the first trip out to Tara with you."

Connel nodded.

"And well, sir, the main thing is about Jardine and Bangs. I know we're going to be sent to the prison asteroid and we deserve it. But we been thinking, sir, about Jardine's and Bang's wives and kids. They musta lost everything in that crash of the Annie Jones, so if the major would recommend that Mason and me be sent to the Titan mines, instead of the rock, we could send our credits back to help take care of the kids and all."

No one spoke.

"That's all," said Loring. He and Mason left the room.

Connel glanced around the table. "Well?" he asked. "This is your first struggle with justice. Each of you, Tom, Roger, Astro, Alfie, will be faced with this sort of thing during your careers as spacemen. What would you do?"

The four cadets looked at each other, each wondering what the other would say. Finally Connel turned to Alfie.

"You're first, Alfie," said Connel.

"I'd send them to the mines, sir," said Alfie.

Connel's face was impressive. "Roger?"

"Same here, sir," replied Roger.

"Astro?" asked Connel.

"I'd do anything to help the kids, sir," said Astro, an orphan himself.

"Tom?"

Tom hesitated. "They deserve the rock, sir. I don't have any feeling for them. But if they go to the rock, that doesn't do any more than punish them. If they go to the mines, they'll be punished and help someone else too. I'd send them to Titan and exile them from Earth forever."

Connel studied the cadets a moment. He turned to Shinny.

"Think they made a good decision, Nick?"

"I like what young Tommy, here, had to say, Lou," answered Shinny. "Best part about justice is when the man himself suffers from his own guilty feelings, rather than what you do to him as punishment. I think they did all right!"

"All right," said Connel. "I'll make the recommendation as you have suggested." Suddenly he turned to Shinny. "What about you in all this, Nick? I don't mean that you were hooked up with Loring and Mason. I know you were just prospecting and you've proved yourself to be a true spaceman. But what will happen to you now?"

"I'll tell you what's going to happen to me," snapped Shinny. "You're going to re-enlist me in the Solar Guard, right here! Right now!"

"What?" exploded Connel.

"And then you're going to retire me, right here, right now, with a full pension!"

"Why you old space-crawling—" Suddenly he looked around the table and saw the laughing faces of Tom, Roger, Astro, and Alfie.

"All right," he said, "but between your enlistment and your retirement, I'm going to make you polish every bit of brass on this space wagon, from the radar mast to the exhaust tubes!"

Shinny smiled his toothless smile and looked at Tom.

"Get the logbook, Tommy," he said. "This is official. I'm going to do something no other man in the entire history of the Solar Guard ever did before!"

"What's that, Mr. Shinny?" asked Tom with a smile.

"Enlist, serve time, and retire with a full pension, all on the same blasted spaceship, the Polaris!"