sore, just because you couldn’t do any better than the Space Cadets.”
“Blast off,” shouted Roger, “before I fuse your jets.”
Tom spoke up. “I think you’d better go, Captain.”
“I’ve got six men outside,” sneered the other. “I’ll go when I’m ready.”
“You’re ready now,” spoke up Astro. He stood up to his full height. “We don’t want any trouble,” the cadet from Venus said, “but we’re not braking our jets to get away from it, either.”
James took a good look at Astro’s powerful frame. Without another word he walked away.
Tom shook his head. “That pal of yours is a real Space Cadet fan, isn’t he, Roger?”
“Yeah,” said Astro. “Just like Manning is himself.”
“Look,” said Roger. “Look, you guys—” He hesitated, as though intending to say something more, but then he turned back to his dinner. “Go on—finish your food,” he growled. He bent over his plate and ate without lifting his eyes. And not another word was spoken at the table until a young man approached, carrying a portable teleceiver screen.
“Pardon me,” he said. “Is one of you Cadet Tom Corbett?”
“Why—I am,” acknowledged Tom.
“There’s a call for you. Seems they’ve been trying to reach you all over Atom City.” He placed the teleceiver screen on the table, plugged it into a floor socket and set the dials.
“Hope’s there’s nothing wrong at home,” said Tom to his friends. “My last letter from Mom said Billy was messing around with a portable atom reactor and she was afraid he might blow himself up.”
A picture began to take shape on the screen. “Migosh,” said Astro. “It’s Captain Strong.”
“It certainly is,” said the captain’s image. “Having dinner, eh, boys? Ummmm—those baked shrimps look good.”
“They’re terrific,” said Astro. “Wish you were here.”
“Wish you could stay there,” said Captain Strong.
“Oh, no!” moaned Astro. “Don’t tell me!”
“Sorry, boys,” came the voice from the teleceiver. “But that’s it. You’ve got to return to the Academy immediately. The whole cadet corps has been ordered into space for special maneuvers. We blast off tomorrow morning at six hundred.”
“But, sir,” objected Tom, “we can’t get a monorail until morning!”
“This is an official order, Corbett. So you have priority over all civilian transportation.” The Solar Guard captain smiled. “I’ve tied up a whole bank of teleceivers in Atom City searching for you. Get back to Space Academy fast—commandeer an air car if you must, but be here by six hundred hours!” The captain waved a cheery good-bye and the screen went dark.
“Space maneuvers,” breathed Astro. “The real thing.”
“Yeah,” agreed Tom. “Here we go!”
“Our first hop into deep space!” said Roger. “Let’s get out of here!”
CHAPTER 12
“The following ships in Squadron A will blast off immediately,” roared Commander Walters over the teleceiver. He looked up alertly from a chart before him in the Academy spaceport control tower. He began to name the ships. “Capella, orbital tangent—09834, Arcturus, orbital tangent—09835, Centauri, orbital tangent—09836, Polaris, orbital tangent—09837!”
Aboard the space cruiser Polaris, Tom Corbett turned away from the control board. “That’s us, sir,” he said to Captain Strong.
“Very well, Corbett.” The Solar Guard captain walked to the ship’s intercom and flipped on the switch.
“Astro, Roger, stand by!”
Astro and Roger reported in. Strong began to speak. “The cadet corps has been divided into squadrons of four ships each. We are command ship of Squadron A. When we reach free-fall space, we are to proceed as a group until eight hundred hours, when we are to open sealed orders. Each of the other seven squadrons will open their orders at the same time. Two of the squadrons will then act as invaders while the remaining six will be the defending fleet. It will be the invaders’ job to reach their objective and the defenders’ job to stop them.”
“Spaceport control to rocket cruiser Polaris, your orbit has been cleared for blast-off.…” The voice of Commander Walters interrupted Strong in his instructions and he turned back to Tom.
“Take over, Corbett.”
Tom turned to the teleceiver. “Rocket cruiser Polaris to spaceport control.”
“…Blast off minus two—six hundred forty-eight.…”
“I read you clear,” said Tom. He clicked off the teleceiver and turned back to the intercom. “Stand by to raise ship! Control deck to radar deck. Do we have clear trajectory forward and up, Roger?”
“All clear forward and up,” replied Roger.
“Control deck to power deck…energize the cooling pumps!”
“Cooling pumps, aye,” came from Astro.
The giant ship began to shudder as the mighty pumps on the power deck started their build.
Tom strapped himself into the pilot’s seat and began checking the dials in front of him. Satisfied, he fastened his eyes on the sweep hand of the time clock. Above his head, the teleceiver screen brought him a clear picture of the Academy spaceport. He watched the giant cruisers take to the air one by one and rocket into the vastness of space.
The clock hand reached the ten-second mark.
“Stand by to raise ship!” Tom called into the intercom. The red hand moved steadily, inexorably. Tom reached for the master switch.
“Blast off minus—five—four—three—two—one—zero!”
Tom threw the switch.
The great ship hovered above the ground for a few moments. Then it heaved itself skyward, faster and ever faster, pushing the Earthmen deep into their acceleration cushions.
Reaching free-fall space, Tom flipped on the artificial-gravity generator. He felt its pull on his body, quickly checked all the instruments and turned to Captain Strong.
“Ship space-borne at six hundred fifty-three, sir.”
“Very well, Corbett,” replied Strong. “Check in with the Arcturus, Capella and the Centauri, form up on one another and assume a course that will bring you back over Academy spaceport at eight hundred hours, when we will open orders.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tom, turning back eagerly to the control board.
For nearly two hours the four rocket ships of Squadron A moved through space in a perfect arc, shaping up for the 0800 deadline. Strong made use of the time to check a new astrogation prism perfected by Dr. Dale for use at hyperspace speeds. Tom rechecked his instruments, then prepared hot tea and sandwiches in the galley for his shipmates.
“This is what I call service,” said Astro. He stood stripped to the waist, a wide leather belt studded with assorted wrenches of various shapes and sizes strapped around his hips. In one hand he carried a wad of waste cotton with which he continually polished the surfaces of the atomic motors, while his eyes constantly searched the many gauges in front of him for the slightest sign of engine failure.
“Never mind bringing anything up to Manning. I’ll eat his share.”
Astro had deliberately turned the intercom on so Roger on the radar deck might hear. The response from that corner was immediate and emphatic.
“Listen,