"All O.K. here on the relay circuit," yelled Astro through the intercom
from the power deck.
"O.K.," answered Tom. "Now try out the automatic blowers for the main
tubes!"
"Wanta give me a little juice for the radar antenna, Astro?" called
Roger from the radar deck.
"In a minute, Manning, in a minute," growled Astro. "Only got two hands,
you know."
"You should learn to use your feet," quipped Roger. "Any normal Venusian
can do just as much with his toes as he can with his fingers!"
Back and forth the bantering had gone for twelve hours, while the three
members of the _Polaris_ unit tested, checked, adjusted, and rechecked
the many different circuits, relays, junction boxes, and terminals in
the miles of delicate wiring woven through the ship. Now, as dawn began
to creep pink and gray over the eastern horizon, they made their
last-minute search through the cavernous spaceship for any doubtful
connections. Satisfied there were none, the three weary cadets assembled
on the control deck and sipped the hot tea that Manning had thoughtfully
prepared.
[Illustration: _The three weary cadets assembled on the control deck_]
"You know, by the time we get out of the Academy I don't think there'll
be a single _inch_ of this space wagon that I haven't inspected with my
nose," commented Roger in a tired voice.
"You know you love it, Manning," said Astro, who, though as tired as Tom
and Roger, could still continue to work if necessary. His love for the
mighty atomic rocket motors, and his ability to repair anything
mechanical, was already a legend around the Academy. He cared for the
power deck of the _Polaris_ as if it were a baby.
"Might as well pack in and grab some sleep before we report to Captain
Strong," said Tom. "He might have us blasting off right away, and I, for
one, would like to sleep and sleep and then sleep some more!"
"I've been thinking about what Alfie had to say," said Roger. "You know,
about this being a great adventure."
"What about it?" asked Astro.
"Well, you don't give this kind of overhaul for just a plain, short hop
upstairs."
"You think it might be something deeper?" asked Astro softly.
"Whatever it is," said Tom, getting up, "we'll need sleep." He rose,
stretched, and walked wearily to the exit port. Astro and Roger followed
him out, and once again they boarded the slidewalk for the trip back to
the main dormitory and their quarters on the forty-second floor. A half
hour later the three members of the _Polaris_ were sound asleep.
Early morning found Captain Steve Strong in his quarters, standing at
the window and staring blankly out over the quadrangle. In his left hand
he clutched a sheaf of papers. He had just reread, for the fifth time, a
petition for reinstatement of space papers for Al Mason and Bill Loring.
It wasn't easy, as Strong well knew, to deprive a man of his right to
blast off and rocket through space, and the papers in question, issued
only by the Solar Guard, comprised the only legal license to blast off.
Originally issued as a means of preventing overzealous Earthmen from
blasting off without the proper training or necessary physical
condition, which resulted in many deaths, space papers had gradually
become the only effective means of controlling the vast expanding force
of men who made space flight their life's work. With the establishment
of the Spaceman's Code a hundred years before, firm rules and
regulations for space flight had been instituted. Disobedience to any
part of the code was punishable by suspension of papers and forfeiture
of the right to blast off.
One of these rules stated that a spaceman was forbidden to blast off
without authorization or clearance for a free orbit from a central
traffic control. Bill Loring and Al Mason were guilty of having broken
the regulation. Members of the crew of the recent expedition to Tara, a
planet in orbit around the sun star Alpha Centauri, they had taken a
rocket scout and blasted off without permission from Major Connel, the
commander of the mission, who, in this case, was authorized
traffic-control officer. Connel had recommended immediate suspension of
their space papers. Mason and Loring had petitioned for a review, and,
to assure impartial judgment, Commander Walters had sent the petition to
one of his other officers to make a decision. The petition had landed on
Strong's desk.
Strong read the petition again and shook his head. The facts were too
clear. There had been flagrant disregard for the rules and there was no
evidence to support the suspended spacemen's charge that they had been
unjustly accused by Connel. Strong's duty was clear. He had to uphold
Major Connel's action and suspend the men for a year.
Once the decision was made, Strong put the problem out of his mind. He
walked to his huge circular desk and began sorting through the day's
orders and reports. On the top of the pile of papers was a sealed
envelope, bordered in red and marked "classified." It was from
Commander Walters' office. Thoughtfully he opened it and read:
To: CAPTAIN STEVE STRONG: Cadet Supervisor,
_Polaris_ Unit
Upon receipt of this communication, you are ordered to
transfer the supervisory authority of the cadet unit
designated as _POLARIS_ unit; i.e., Cadets Tom Corbett, Roger
Manning, and Astro, and the command of the rocket cruiser
_Polaris_, to the command and supervisory authority of Major
Connel for execution of mission as outlined herein:
1. To test range, life, and general performance of audio
communications transmitter, type X21.
2. To test the above-mentioned transmitter under conditions of
deep space flight.
3. This test to take place on the planet Tara, Alpha Centauri.
This communication and all subsequent information relative to
above-mentioned mission shall be classified as _topmost
secret_.
Signed: WALTERS,
_Commandant_, Space Academy
"So that's it," he thought. "A hop into deep space for the _Polaris_
unit!" He smiled. "The cadets of the _Polaris_ unit are in for a little
surprise in two ways," he thought. "One from the mission and one from
Major Connel!"
He almost laughed out loud as he turned to the small desk teleceiver at
his elbow. He pressed a button immediately below the screen and it
glowed into life to reveal a young man in the uniform of the enlisted
guard.
"Yes, Captain Strong?" he asked.
"Call the cadets of the _Polaris_ unit," Strong ordered. "Have them
report to me here on the double!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
Strong started to turn the set off, but the enlisted man added, "By the
way, sir, Al Mason and Bill Loring are here to see you."
"Oh--well--" Strong hesitated.
"They're quite anxious to know if you've reached any decision regarding
their petition for reinstatement."
"Mmm--yes, of course. Very well, send them in."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The teleceiver screen blackened. In a moment the door opposite Strong's
desk slid back, and Loring and Mason stepped into the office. They
shambled forward and stopped in front of the huge desk, obviously ill at
ease.
Strong stood up, holding their petition in his hand, and glanced over it
briefly even though he knew its contents by heart. He motioned to
near-by chairs. "Sit down, please," he said.
The two spacemen settled themselves uncomfortably on the edge of their
chairs and waited expectantly as Strong continued to look at the paper.
Loring finally broke the heavy silence.
"Well, Captain Strong, have you made a decision?" he asked. Loring was a
heavy-set man, in his middle forties. He needed a shave, and when he
talked, his mouth twisted into an ugly grimace.
"Hope it's in our favor, sir," suggested Mason. He was shorter than
Loring and, seated, his feet hardly reached the floor. His eyes darted
nervously about the huge room, and he kept rolling a dirty black
spaceman's cap in his hands.
"Yes, I've reached a decision," said Strong slowly. He faced the two men
and looked at both of them with a steady cold stare. "I've decided to
sustain Major Connel's action. You are both grounded for the next twelve
months. Earth months!"
"What?" shouted Loring, jumping to his feet. He banged his fist down on
the desk and leaned over, his face close to Strong's. "You can't do that
to us!"
Captain Strong didn't move. "I can," he said coldly. "And I have."
"But--but--" Mason began to whine. "But space flight is all we know! How
will we live?"
Strong sat down and leaned back in his chair to get away from the foul
odor of Loring's breath. He stared at the two men.
"You should have thought of that before you stole a rocket scout from
the expedition and made an unauthorized flight while on Tara," Strong
replied. "You're lucky you're not accused, tried, and convicted of theft
of a Solar Guard spaceship!"
"We had permission to take that flight," snarled Loring. "That Major
Connel is so blasted space happy he forgot he gave us permission. Then
when we came back, he slapped us in the brig!"
"Do you have any proof of that?" asked Strong.
"No! But it's our word against his!" He slammed his hat down on the desk
and shook his finger in Strong's face. "You haven't any right to take
away our papers just on the say-so of a lousy Solar Guard officer who
thinks he's king of the universe!"
"Take your filthy hat off my desk, Loring!" barked Strong. "And watch
your language!"
Loring realized he had made a mistake and tried to backtrack. "Well, I
apologize for that. But I _don't_ apologize for saying he thinks he's--"
"Major Connel has been in the Solar Guard for thirty years," said Strong
emphatically. "He's been awarded the Solar Medal three times. No other
living spaceman has achieved that! Not even Commander Walters! He rose
through the ranks of the enlisted Solar Guard and was commissioned as an
officer of the Solar Guard in space during an emergency. He qualifies
higher than any other spaceman, and he has never been found to be
unjust! He's one of the finest spacemen ever to hit the wide, deep, and
high!" Strong stopped, choked for breath, and turned away. It wasn't
often he lost his temper, but something had to be said in defense of his
fellow officer, and particularly since that officer was Connel. He
turned back to face the two spacemen, and his voice was hard and cold
again.
"You are hereby suspended from space flight for twelve Earth months. Any
further petition for appeal of this decision will be denied!"
"All right! All right, Mr. Big!" snapped Loring. "Does this mean we
can't even ride as passengers?"
"No rights under the Universal Bill of Rights of the Solar Alliance have
been denied you, except that of actively participating in the flight of
a spaceship!"
The signal bell of the teleceiver began to chime softly, and on the desk
the teleceiver screen glowed again. "Cadets Corbett, Manning, and Astro
are here for their assignments, sir," announced the enlisted man
outside.
Loring glared at Strong. "I suppose you're going to send some punk kids
out on the next trip to Tara and leave us experienced spacemen to rot on
the ground, huh?"
Strong didn't see the door slide open to admit the three cadets who
entered quietly. His whole attention was focused on the ugly glaring
faces of Bill Loring and Al Mason.
"Get this, Loring!" snapped Strong hotly. "The assignments of the
_Polaris_ unit, whether it be to Tara or the Moon, has nothing to do
with your own breech of conduct. In any case, if they were to be
assigned, they'd do a better job than you 'experienced' spacemen who are
disrespectful of your superior officers and break regulations! If either
of you makes one more crack about the Solar Guard or Space Cadets, or
_anything_ at all, I'll take you out on the quadrangle and pound some
common courtesy into your heads! Now get out!"
"All right, all right--" muttered Loring retreating, but with a sneer on
his lips. "We'll meet again, Mr. Bigshot Spaceman!"
"I hope so, Loring. And if we do, I hope you've taken a bath. You even
smell bad!"
From the rear of the room came a burst of laughter. Tom, Roger, and
Astro, unobserved, had been listening and watching their skipper in
action. When Loring and Mason had left the room, they advanced to the
desk, came to attention, and saluted.
"_Polaris_ unit reporting for duty, sir!" snapped Tom crisply.
"At ease," said Strong. "Did you hear all of that?"
"Yes, sir, skipper!" Roger smiled. "And believe me, you really gave it
to those two space bums!"
"Yeah," agreed Astro, "but I don't think even _you_ could do much for
Loring. He's just born to smell bad!"
"Never mind that," said Strong. "I suppose you heard the part about the
assignments?"
The three cadets assumed looks of pure innocence.
"We didn't hear a thing, sir," said Tom.
"You'll make a fine diplomat, Corbett," Strong laughed. "All right, sit
down and I'll give it to you straight."
They hastily took seats and waited for their skipper to begin.
"You've been assigned as cadet observers on a mission to test the range
of a new long-range audio transmitter." Strong paused, then added
significantly, "The test is to take place in deep space."
The three cadets only beamed their enthusiastic approval.
"Tara," continued Strong, "is your destination--a planet like Earth in
many respects, in orbit around the sun star Alpha Centauri. You'll take
the _Polaris_ directly to the Venus space station, where the transmitter
has been given primary tests, outfit the _Polaris_ for hyperdrive, and
blast off!"
"Excuse me, sir," interrupted Tom, "but you say 'you'?"
"I mean," replied Strong, "_you_, in the sense that I won't be going
along with you. Oh, don't worry!" said Strong, holding up his hand as a
sudden look of anticipation spread over the faces of the three boys.
"You're not going alone! You'll have a commanding officer, all right. In
fact, you'll have the nearest thing to the perfect commanding officer in
the Solar Guard!" He waited just long enough for each boy to search his
mind for a suitable candidate and then added, "Your skipper will be
Major Connel!"
"Major Connel!" the three cadets cried in unison.
"You mean Major 'Blast-off' Connel?" uttered Roger unbelievingly.
"That's who I mean," said Strong. "It's the best thing in the universe
that could happen to you!"
Roger stood up and saluted smartly. "I request permission to be
dismissed from this mission on the grounds of incompatibility, sir," he
said.
"Incompatible to what?" asked Strong, amused.
"To Major Connel, sir," replied Roger.
"Permission denied," said Strong with a smile. "Buck up! It isn't so
bad." Strong paused and stood up. "Well, that's it. It's close to eleven
A.M. and you're to report to the major at eleven on the nose. I
hope you've got the _Polaris_ in good shape."
"We were up all night, sir," said Tom. "She's ready to go."
"She's in better shape than we are," said Astro.
"Very well, then. Report to Major Connel immediately. Your papers have
been transferred, so all you have to do is report."
Strong rounded the desk and shook hands with each cadet. "This is an
important mission, boys," he said soberly. "See that you give Major
Connel all the support I know you're capable of giving. He'll need it. I
doubt if I'll see you before you blast off, so this is it. Spaceman's
luck to each of you!"
[Illustration]