Tom Corbett Space Cadet Page 21

  "Don't give up so easy. There's a fortune setting up there in space—just waiting for me and you to come and take it. And no big-shot Solar Guard officer is going to keep me from getting it!"

  "Yeah—yeah," grumbled Mason, "but what are you going to do about it?"

  "I'll show you what I'm going to do!" said Loring. "We're heading for Venusport."

  "Venusport? By the moons of Jupiter, what are we going to do there?"

  "Get a free ride to Tara!"

  "But how? I only got a few hundred credits and you ain't got much more. There ain't nobody going to go fifty billion miles on nothing!"

  Loring's eyes followed the massive figure of Major Connel on the slidewalk as it swept across the spaceport field toward the Polaris. "You just buy us a coupla seats on the next rocket to Venusport and stop asking stupid questions. When we see Major 'Blast-off' Connel again, we'll be giving the orders with a paralo-ray!"

  The two disgruntled spacemen turned quickly and walked to the nearest slidewalk, disappearing around a building.

  Aboard the Polaris, Tom confronted his two unit-mates.

  "Now look, fellows. After the hard time Major Connel just gave us, let's see if we can't really stay on the ball from now on."

  "All right by me, Tom," Astro said, nodding his head.

  "You're having space dreams, Corbett!" drawled Roger. "No matter what we do for old 'Blast-off' we'll wind up behind the eight ball."

  "But if we really try," urged Tom, "if we all do our jobs, there can't be anything for him to fuss about."

  "We'll make it tough for him to give us any demerits," Astro chimed in.

  "Right," said Tom.

  "It won't work," grumbled Roger. "You saw the way he chewed us up, and for what? I ask you—for what?"

  "He was just trying to live up to his reputation, Roger," replied Tom. "But common sense will tell you that if you're on the ball you won't get demerits."

  "What's the matter, hot-shot?" growled Astro. "Afraid of a little work?"

  "Listen, you Venusian clunk," sneered Roger, "I'll work the pants off you any day in the week, and that includes Titan days, too!"

  "O.K." Tom smiled. "Save half of that energy for the Polaris, Roger."

  "Yeah, use some of that Manning hot air to shine brass!" suggested Astro.

  "Come on. Let's get this wagon in shape," said Tom. He turned to the instrument panel and the great control board.

  A moment later the three cadets were busy shining the few bits of brass and rechecking the many controls and levers. Suddenly there was the sound of a hatch slamming below and then Astro's voice came whispering over the intercom, "… watch it, fellows. Here he comes!"

  The airtight hatch leading to the control deck slid back, and Major Connel stepped inside. With one sweeping glance he took in the control deck and the evidence of their work.

  "Unit—staaaaand to!" he roared.

  Astro climbed into the control deck and snapped to attention with his unit-mates as Connel began a quick but thorough check of the many dials and switches and relays on the control panel.

  "Ummmmh," he mused. "Been doing a little work, I see."

  "Oh, nothing special, sir," said Roger.

  "Well, from now on it's going to be special!" roared Connel.

  "Yes, sir," acknowledged Roger quickly.

  "All right, at ease," ordered Connel. As the three boys relaxed, Connel stepped over to the astrogation board and snapped a switch. Immediately a solar chart filled the huge chart screen. It was a black-and-white view of the planet Venus.

  "This is where we're going first," he said, placing a finger on a ball-shaped satellite in orbit around the misty planet. "This is the Venus space station. As you know, Venus has no natural satellite of its own, so we built one. We'll blast off from here and go directly to the space station where the Polaris will be fitted with hyperdrive for deep-space operations. While at the station you will acquaint yourselves with the operation of the new audio communications transmitter. When I'm satisfied that you can handle it under the prevailing conditions of an extended space flight, we'll blast off for a test of its range and performance."

  Major Connel paused and faced the cadets squarely. Then he continued: "This is an important mission—one which I hope will enable the Solar Guard to establish the first base outside of our solar system. Our destination is Tara, in the star system of Alpha Centauri. Tara is a planet in a stage of development similar to that of Earth several million years ago. Its climate is tropical, and lush vegetation—jungles really—covers the land surface. Two great oceans separate the land masses. One is called Alpha, the other Omega. I was on the first expedition, when Tara was discovered, and have just returned from the second, during which we explored it and ran tests to learn if it could sustain human life. All tests show that Tara can be transformed into a paradise."

  Connel paused, took a deep breath, and continued: "I shall expect more than just hard work from you. I want everything you have to offer. Not just good performance, but excellence! I will not tolerate anything less, and if I'm forced to resort to extreme disciplinary action to get what I demand, then you can expect to receive every demerit in the book!" He stepped closer to the three cadets. "Remember! Spacemen—or nothing! Now, stand by to blast off!"

  Without a word, the three cadets hurried to their stations and began routine procedure to raise ship.

  "All departments ready to blast off, Major Connel," reported Tom, saluting sharply.

  "Very well, Corbett, proceed," said Connel.

  Tom called into the intercom, "Stand by for blast-off!" He then opened the circuit to the teleceiver screen overhead and spoke to the spaceport control tower.

  "Polaris to spaceport control. Request permission to blast off. Request orbit."

  "Spaceport traffic to Polaris. Your orbit has been cleared 089—repeat 089—blast off in two minutes…"

  "Orbit 089—blast off minus one fifty-nine fifty-eight."

  "You read me clear, Polaris…"

  Tom clicked off the switch and turned to the intercom. "Control deck to radar bridge. Do we have a clear tangent forward and up?"

  "All clear forward and up, Tom," replied Roger.

  "Control deck to power deck. Energize the cooling pumps!"

  "Cooling pumps in operation," answered Astro briskly.

  The giant ship began to shudder as the mighty pumps on the power deck started their slow, whining build-up. Tom sat in front of the control panel, strapped himself into the acceleration chair, and began checking the dials and gauges. Satisfied everything was in order, he fastened his eyes to the sweeping red second hand on the solar clock. The teleceiver screen brought a sharp picture of the surrounding base of the spaceship, and he saw that it was all clear. The second hand reached the ten-second mark.

  "Stand by to raise ship!" bawled Tom into the intercom. The red hand moved steadily, surely, to the zero at the top of the clock face. Tom reached for the master switch.

  "Blast off minus five—four—three—two—one—zero!"

  Tom threw the switch.

  Slowly the giant ship raised itself from the ground. Then faster and faster, pushing the four spacemen deep into their acceleration cushions, it hurtled spaceward.

  In a few seconds the Polaris was gravity-free. Once again, Earthmen had started another journey to the stars.

  CHAPTER 4

  "Stand by to reduce speed three-quarters!" roared Major Connel.

  "Aye, aye, sir," replied Tom, and began the necessary adjustments on the control panel. He spoke into the intercom. "Control deck to power deck. Stand by to reduce thrust on main drive rockets by three-quarters. We're coming onto the space station, Astro."

  "Power deck, aye," acknowledged Astro.

  Drifting in a steady orbit around its mother planet, the Venus space station loomed ahead of the Polaris like a huge metal ball set against a backdrop of cold, black space. It was studded with gaping holes, air locks which served as landing ports for spaceships. Inside the
station was a compact city. Living quarters, communications rooms, repair shops, weather observations, meteor information, everything to serve the great fleet of Solar Guard and merchant spaceships plying the space lanes between Earth, Mars, Venus, and Titan.

  "I'm getting the identification request from the station, sir. Shall I answer her?" asked Roger over the intercom.

  "Of course, you space-brained idiot, and make it fast!" exploded Connel. "What do you want to do? Get us blasted out of space?"

  "Yes, sir!" replied Roger. "Right away, sir!"

  Tom kept his eyes on the teleceiver screen above his head. The image of the space station loomed large and clear.

  "Approaching a little too fast, I think, sir," volunteered Tom. "Shall I make the adjustment?"

  "What's the range?" asked Connel.

  Tom named a figure.

  "Ummmmh," mused Connel. He glanced quickly over the dials and then nodded in assent. Tom turned once more to the intercom. "Control deck to power deck," he called. "Stand by for maneuvering, Astro, and reduce your main drive thrust to minimum space speed."

  "Space station traffic control to rocket cruiser Polaris. Come in, Polaris. This is traffic control on space station to Polaris," the audio teleceiver crackled.

  "Rocket cruiser Polaris to space station and traffic control. Request touchdown permission and landing-port number," replied Tom.

  "Permission to touch down granted, Polaris. You are to line up on approach to landing-port seven—repeat—seven. Am now sending out guiding radar beam. Can you read beam?"

  Tom turned to the intercom. "Have you got the station's guiding beam, Roger?"

  "All lined up, Tom," replied Roger from the radar bridge. "Get that Venusian on the power deck to give me a three-second shot on the starboard rocket, if he can find the right handles!"

  "I heard that, Manning!" roared Astro's voice on the intercom. "Another crack like that and I'll make you get out and push this baby around!"

  "You execute that order and do it blasted quick!" Major Connel's voice exploded over the intercom. "And watch that loose talk on the ship's intercom. From now on, all directions and orders will be given and received in a crisp, clear manner without unnecessary familiarity!"

  Connel didn't expect them to acknowledge his order. The cadets had heard him and that was enough. He knew it was enough. In the short time it had taken them to traverse the immense gulf of space between the Academy and the station Connel had handed out demerits by fives and tens! Each of the cadets was now tagged with enough black marks to spend two months in the galley working them off!

  Now, working together like the smooth team of junior spacemen they were, Tom, Roger, and Astro maneuvered the great rocket ship toward the gaping hole of the air lock in the side of the white ball-like satellite.

  "Drop your bow one half degree, Polaris, you're up too high," warned the station control.

  "A short burst on the upper trim rocket, Astro," called Tom.

  The great ship bucked slightly under the force of sudden thrust, and then its nose dropped the required half degree.

  "Cut all thrust and brake your speed to dead ship, Polaris," ordered traffic control.

  Again Tom relayed the order to Astro, and a moment later the great ship hung silently in the airless void of space, a scant half mile from the station.

  The junior spaceman maneuvered the great rocket ship toward the air lock

  Through the teleceiver Tom could see the jet boats darting out from the station carrying the magnetic cables. In a moment the lines were attached to the steel skin of the ship, and gradually the lines tightened, pulling the mighty spaceship into the waiting port. Once inside, the outer air lock was closed and the Polaris was slung in the powerful magnetic cradles that held her in a rigid position. Elsewhere on the satellite, quick calculations were made for the additional weight, and the station was counterbalanced to assure an even orbit around Venus.

  Tom flicked the many switches off on the great board, glanced at the time of arrival on the solar clock, and reported to Major Connel.

  "Touchdown at one-nine-four-nine, sir."

  "Very well, Corbett," answered Connel. Then he added grudgingly, "That was as fine a job of control-deck operations as I've seen. Keep up the good work, spaceman."

  Tom gulped. The unexpected compliment caught him off guard. And he was even more pleased that for the first time Connel had referred to him as spaceman!

  "I'll be needed at the space station commander's quarters for a while, Corbett," said Connel. "Meanwhile, you and Manning and Astro acquaint yourselves with the station. Report to me back aboard the ship in exactly two hours. Dismissed."

  Tom saluted, and Connel disappeared toward the exit port.

  "Well, spaceman," Roger drawled casually from behind, "it looks like you've got yourself in solid with the old man!"

  Tom smiled. "With a guy like that, Roger, you're never in solid. Maybe I did get a pat on the back, but you didn't hear him cancel any of those demerits he gave me for not signing the logbook after that last watch, did you?"

  "Let's get some chow," growled Astro, who came hustling through the hatch. "I'm half starved. By the craters of Luna, how many times can you change course in five minutes?"

  Astro referred to the countless times Tom had had to call for fraction-degree course changes in their approach to the gaping entrance port.

  Tom laughed. "With Connel on the bridge, you're lucky I didn't give you twice as many," he replied. "Can you imagine what would have happened if we had missed and hit the station?"

  "Brrrrrr!" shuddered Roger. "I hate to think about it. Come on. Let's rustle up some grub for the Venusian. I could use some myself."

  The three boys quickly changed to their dress blue cadet uniforms and left the ship. A moment later they were being whisked up an electric elevator to the main—or "street"—level. The door opened, and they stepped out into a large circular area about the size of a city block in the rear of the station. The area had been broken into smaller sections. One side of the "street" was devoted to shops, a small stereo house which was playing the latest Liddy Tamal hit, "Children of Space" (a sensational drama about the lives of men in the future), restaurants, and even a curio shop. The Venus space station handled ninety per cent of the traffic into and out of Venusport. It was a refueling stop for the jet liners and space freighters bound for the outer planets, and for those returning to Earth. Some ships went directly to Venusport for heavy overhaul or supplies, but the station was established primarily for quick turn arounds. Several ex-enlisted spacemen who had been injured or retired were given special permission to open shops for the convenience of the passengers and crews of the ships and the staff of the station. In twenty years the station had become a place where summer tourists from Earth and winter tourists from Titan made a point of stopping. The first of its kind in the universe, it was as near a perfect place to live as could be built by man.

  Tom, Roger, and Astro strolled down the short street, pushing through a crowd of tourists admiring the shops. Finally they found a restaurant that specialized in Venusian dishes.

  "Now you two spindly Earthmen are going to have the best meal of your lives! Broiled dinosaur on real Venusian black bread!"

  "D-dinosaur!" stuttered Tom in amazement. "Why—why—that's a prehistoric monster!"

  "Yeah, Astro," agreed Roger. "What are you trying to hand us?"

  Astro laughed. "You'll see, fellows," he replied. "I used to go hunting for them when I was a kid. Brought the best price of any wild game. Fifty credits for babies under three hundred pounds. Over that, you can't eat 'em. Too tough!"

  Tom and Roger looked at each other, eyes bulging.

  "Ah, come on, Tom," drawled Roger. "He's just trying to pull our leg."

  Without a word, Astro grabbed them by the arms and rushed them into the restaurant. They were no sooner seated when a recorded voice announced the menu over a small loud-speaker on the table. Astro promptly ordered dinosaur, and to his unit-mates
' amazement, the voice politely inquired:

  "Would the spacemen prefer to have it broiled a la Venusian black bread, baked, or raw?"

  A sharp look from Roger and Tom, and Astro ordered it broiled.

  One hour and fifteen minutes later the three members of the Polaris unit staggered out of the restaurant.

  "By the rings of Saturn," declared Tom, "that wasn't only the most I ever ate—it was the best!"

  Roger nodded in silent agreement, leaning against the plastic window in front of the restaurant.

  "You see," Astro beamed, "maybe you guys will listen to me from now on!"

  "Boy, I can't wait to see Mom's face when I tell her that her chicken and dumplings have taken second place to broiled monster!"

  "By the jumping blazes of the stars!" yelled Roger suddenly. "Look at the time! We're ten minutes late!"

  "Ohhhhh," moaned Tom. "I knew it was too good to be true!"

  "Step on it!" said Astro. "Maybe he won't notice."

  "Some chance," groaned Roger, running after Tom and Astro. "That old rocket head wouldn't miss anything!"

  The three boys raced back to the electric elevator and were silently whisked to the air-lock level. They hurried aboard the Polaris and into the control room. Major Connel was seated in a chair near the chart screen, studying some papers. The cadets drew themselves to attention.

  "Unit reporting for duty, sir," Tom quavered.

  Connel spun around in the swivel chair, glanced at the clock, put the papers to one side, and slowly advanced toward the cadets.

  "Thirteen and a half minutes late!" he said, dropping his voice to a biting growl. "I'll give you five seconds to think up a good excuse. Every man is entitled to an excuse. Some have good ones, some have truthful ones, and some have excuses that sound as though they made them up in five seconds!"

  He eyed the cadets speculatively. "Well?" he demanded.

  "I'm afraid we were carried away by our enthusiasm for a meal Astro introduced us to, sir," said Tom honestly.