“Hey, Astrooooo!” yelled Tom. “Get number-one jet boat out of the hatch. We’re going for a look-see at this place!”
Tom went to the gun locker and took out three paralo-ray guns and rifles. He made sure each of them was fully loaded and then handed them to Alfie.
“Put these on the jet boat, Alfie. I’ll be along in a minute.”
Alfie took the guns and walked toward the jet-boat catapult deck. Tom returned to the radar bridge and stood before Connel.
“Would you see if there is any news of Roger, sir, when you make contact with the Academy?”
Connel read the cadet’s lips and nodded his head. Tom turned and went directly to the jet-boat deck. Astro and Alfie waited for him inside.
“Brought along three space suits, Tom,” said Astro. “You can never tell what we might run into.”
“Good idea,” said Tom.
The three cadets climbed into the jet boat, Tom taking the pilot’s seat. He pushed a release button, and a portion of the Polaris’ steel hull slid back. Tom pressed another button, gripped the wheel of the small space craft, and stepped on the acceleration pedal. The little red ship shot out of the open hatch and zoomed over the giant trees.
Traveling at a slow speed, Tom made a wide arc over the forest, checking his position against that of the Polaris before losing sight of it. He pulled the tiny ship up to one thousand feet, leveled off, set the automatic pilot, and took his first close look at Tara, four and a half light years from Earth.
From above, Tara seemed to be a quagmire of reptiles, dinosaurs, and dense vegetation reaching as high as the gleaming towers of Venusport and Atom City. Huge trees that spread their branches over an area of a thousand feet soared skyward, limbs and trunks wrapped in jungle creepers. Now and then Alfie would grasp Tom or Astro by the arm and point a wavering finger at a moving animal below, then gasp and fall back white-faced into his seat. While Tom was inclined to share Alfie’s reactions, Astro took it in stride, having been exposed to the dangers of wild jungles on his own Venus.
The tiny jet boat raced out across the blue-green sea that swept up in giant swells along the snow-white sandy beaches. It was a temptation to set the small craft down and enjoy the pleasure of a swim after the many days of cramped, tortured living on the Polaris. But Tom remembered Connel’s orders and also had a lot of respect for some of the things he had seen swimming in the water.
“Better get back,” said Tom. He flipped the audiophone switch in the jet boat and spoke into a small mike.
“Jet boat one to Polaris. Jet boat one to Polaris. Cadet Corbett to Major Connel.”
There was a crackle of static and then Connel’s voice, vibrant and clear, filled the small cabin.
“Corbett!” he roared. “By the craters of Luna, I couldn’t contact you. Return to the Polaris on the double!”
“Is there something wrong, sir?” asked Tom, apprehensive after seeing the wildness of the jungle below him.
“Wrong?” blared Connel. “News from Earth—from the Academy! Roger’s been cleared of all charges.”
“Cleared?” stammered Tom.
“Absolutely! When I sealed the radar bridge after the crash, a security officer examined the settings on the scanners and transmitting equipment. They showed that Roger had been on duty at the time—that he had been tracking the ship as he claimed.”
“Then what was the reason for the crash?”
“Security isn’t sure yet. An acceleration control lever is missing from the wreckage. And it wasn’t broken off as a result of the crash. Now Loring and Mason are wanted for further questioning.”
Tom looked at his unit-mate, Astro. The big Venusian had his head turned to one side; he seemed to be staring out over the vast writhing jungle.
“Astro, did you hear?” asked Tom softly.
“Yeah,” mumbled Astro in a small, choked voice. “Just don’t ask me to turn around.”
CHAPTER 12
“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