"How much longer before we reach the atmosphere of Tara, Manning?" asked
Loring.
Roger bent over the chart table and quickly measured the distance
between his present position and that of Tara.
"About two hours," he said, straightening up.
"Good!" said Loring. "Let me know soon as we get close."
"O.K.," replied the cadet.
"Hey, radar deck!" Mason's voice came over the intercom from the power
deck of the _Space Devil_. "Don't forget to let me know when I have to
cut down on thrust!"
"Take it easy, spaceboy," snapped Roger. "You'll know in plenty of
time!" He turned back to the radar scanner and continued the
never-ending sweep of space ahead.
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!
[Illustration]
Tom swooped over the treetops recklessly, and fearing the blast had
damaged the jet-boat air lock, brought the small craft to rest in the
blinding dust a few yards away from the _Polaris_.
Three minutes later the four spacemen had separated and were standing by
their respective posts. Hasty but thorough checks were made to determine
the damage, and finding none, they prepared to raise ship.
"All clear forward and up," Alfie reported in a high squeaking voice.
"Energize the cooling pumps," shouted Tom.
Astro had already started the mighty pumps, their vibrations rocking the
ship, and Tom began counting the seconds.
"Stand by to raise ship. Minus
five--four--three--two--one--_zeeroooooo!_"
Paying scant attention to the crush of sudden acceleration, Tom gave the
ship all the power she could take for the climb out of Tara's
atmosphere, and soon they were rocketing through the airless void of
space. Alfie and Connel hurriedly swept the area with the radar scanner
for the attacking intruder.
"There she is!" roared Connel. "There!" He placed a finger on a white
blip on the scanner. "By the craters of Luna, that's an Earth ship!" The
fear of an outer-space invasion by hostile people from another world had
been in the back of his mind, but he had been reluctant to voice his
fears in front of the cadets. "And she's an old one at that!" he
exclaimed. "Not even armed. I know that class vessel. Corbett!" he
shouted.
"Aye, aye, sir," replied Tom.
"Put the ship on automatic flight, attack-approach pattern number three.
Then stand by to send a message to whoever's manning that ship!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" replied Tom. He hurriedly set the delicate device that
would fly the ship in a preplanned course of zigzag maneuvers and opened
the circuits of the teleceivers.
"All set for the message, sir," reported Tom.
"Tell them," said Connel heavily, his voice cold, "whoever they are,
that I'll give them two minutes to surrender. If they don't, I'll blast
them into protons!"
"Very well, sir," said Tom. He turned to the teleceiver and began
twirling the dials.
"Attention! Attention! Rocket cruiser _Polaris_ to spaceship X.
_Polaris_ to spaceship X. You are ordered to surrender within two
minutes or we will attack. By order of Major Connel, Senior Line
Officer, Solar Guard."
He switched the teleceiver for reception and waited. In a moment the
screen blurred and then an image appeared. Tom gasped. It was Roger!
"Tom, Tom," yelled Roger. "Tom, this is me--Roger!"
"Roger! What're you doing out here? How'd you get here?"
"I can't explain now," said Roger. "I--I--"
Tom interrupted him. "Roger, you've been cleared! The investigation of
the crash on the station proved that Loring and Mason are guilty.
They're wanted for the crash and the deaths of Jardine and Bangs!"
"What! You mean--" stammered Roger.
"Yes. Loring and Mason did the whole thing!" supplied Tom.
"Look, Tom," pleaded Roger, "give me ten minutes. Don't fire for ten
minutes! I'm going to try an idea. If I'm not successful, then open up
and blast us back to Mars!"
"Roger, wait!" shouted Tom. "What's going on? What're you doing on that
ship?"
"I can't talk now," answered Roger. "Loring and Mason are on the ship
with me. Remember--ten minutes--and if I don't contact you, then open
fire!"