secured the jet boats while Roger closed the air-lock hatch, shutting out the last view of the rugged little planetoid. Roger threw the landscape a mocking kiss.
“So long, Junior! See you back home!” The two cadets climbed the ladder leading to the control deck.
Seated in front of the control panel, Tom watched the sweeping hand of the solar clock. Connel paced nervously up and down behind him. Shinny and Alfie stood to one side also watching the great clock.
“How much time, Corbett?” asked Connel for the dozenth time.
“Junior gets his kick in the pants in ten minutes, sir,” replied Tom.
“Fine,” said Connel. “That gives me just enough time to notify Space Academy to get ready to receive Junior’s signal. You know what to do?”
“I don’t have to do anything, sir,” answered Tom, nodding to the solar clock over his head. “In nine minutes and twenty seconds, the reactor units go off automatically at one-second intervals.”
Roger and Astro entered the control deck and came to attention. Connel returned their salute and put them at ease.
“All right, our work here is done,” said Connel. “No point in hanging around any longer. Tom, you can blast off immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Tom.
Connel climbed the ladder to the radar bridge to contact Space Academy. Astro, Roger, Shinny, and Alfie went to their posts and began quick preparations for the blast-off. One by one, they checked in to Tom on the control deck.
“Power deck, ready to blast off!” reported Astro.
“Radar bridge, all set. Clear trajectory forward and up,” said Roger.
“Energize the cooling pumps!” bawled Tom into the intercom.
The great pumps began to wheeze under the strain of Astro’s sudden switch to full load without the usual slow build-up. Tom watched the pressure needle rise slowly in front of him and finally reached out and gripped the master switch.
“Stand by to raise ship!” he yelled. “Blast off minus five—four—three—two—one—zeroooooo!”
He threw the switch. The great ship shivered, vibrated, and then suddenly shot away from the precious satellite. Tom quickly adjusted for free fall by switching on the synthetic-gravity gyro generators and then announced over the intercom,
“Major Connel! Cadet Corbett reporting. Ship space-borne at exactly thirty-one, sir!”
“Very well, Corbett,” replied Connel. “Space Academy sends the crew a ‘well done!’ Everything’s set back home to take over the beam as soon as Junior starts on his way back. How much time until zero blast-off on the satellite?”
Tom glanced at the clock. “Less than two minutes, sir!”
“All right,” said Connel over the intercom, “everybody to the control deck if you want to see Junior do his stuff!”
In a moment the six spacemen were gathered around the magnascope waiting for the final act of their great effort. Breathlessly, their eyes flicking back and forth from the solar clock to the magnascope, they waited for the red hand to sweep around.
“Here it comes,” said Tom excitedly. “One second—two seconds—three—four—five!”
On the surface of the planetoid, giant mushrooming clouds appeared climbing into the airless void. One by one the reactor units exploded. Connel counted them as they blew up.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—” he paused. Junior began moving away from them. “Nine!” shouted Connel. “What happened to nine?”
“Roger,” shouted Astro, “you made a mistake on the timer!”
“But I couldn’t. I—I—”
Connel spun around, his eyes blazing, breathing hard. “What time did you set the last one for, Roger?” he demanded.
“Why, twenty minutes to blast-off time, sir,” answered the blond-headed cadet.
“Then it won’t go off for another forty minutes,” said Connel.
“But, sir—” began Roger, and then fell silent. The room was quiet. Everyone looked at Roger and then at Connel. “Honestly, sir, I didn’t mean to make a mistake. I—” pleaded Roger.
Connel turned around. His face suddenly looked very tired. “That’s all right, Roger,” he said quietly. “We’ve all been working pretty hard. One little mistake is bound to show up in an operation like this.” He paused. “It’s my fault. I should have checked those fuses myself.”
“Does it make so much difference, sir?” asked Astro.
“A lot of difference, Astro,” said Connel. He sat down heavily.
“But how, sir?” asked Tom.
“It’s very simple, Tom,” answered Connel. His voice was strangely quiet. “Junior spins on its axis in two hours, just as Earth spins in twenty-four hours. I thought we had the explosions timed so at the proper moment we’d push Junior out of his orbit around Tara, and the greater orbit around Alpha Centauri, by utilizing both speeds, plus the initial thrust. But by being one blast short, forty minutes late, the explosion will take place when Junior is forty minutes out of position”—he paused and calculated rapidly in his mind—“that’s about forty-eight thousand miles out of position. When it goes off, instead of sending Junior out into space, it’ll blast it right into its own sun!”
“Isn’t there something we can do, sir?” asked Tom.
“Nothing, Corbett,” answered Connel wearily. “Instead of supplying the Solar Alliance with copper, in another week Junior will be hardly more than a molten piece of space junk.” He looked at the teleceiver screen. All ready, Junior was falling away.
“Stand by for full acceleration, hyperdrive,” said the big officer in a hoarse whisper. “We’re heading home!”
CHAPTER 17
The subdued whine of the hyperdrive filled the power deck and made Roger wince as he stepped through the hatch and waved at Astro. He climbed down the ladder and stopped beside the big Venusian who stood stripped to the waist, watching the pressure gauges on the power-deck control board.
“Hiya, Roger,” said Astro with a big grin.
“Hello, Astro,” replied Roger and sat down on a stool near by.
“Excuse me a minute, hot-shot,” said Astro. “Gotta check the baffling around reaction tube three.” The big cadet hurriedly donned a lead-lined protective suit and entered the reaction chamber. After a moment he reappeared and took off the suit. He poured a glass of water, handed it to Roger, and poured another for himself.
“Gets pretty hot down here,” he said. “I don’t like to use the air conditioner when I’m on hyperdrive. Sucks my power output and reduces pressure on the oxygen pumps.”
Roger nodded absently at the needlessly detailed explanation. Astro looked at him sharply. “Say, what’s eating you?”
“Honestly, Astro,” said Roger, “I’ve never felt more miserable in my life.”
“Don’t let it get you down, Roger,” said Astro. “The major said it was a mistake anyone could make.”
“Yeah,” flared Roger, “but have you seen the way he just—talks?”
“Talks?” asked Astro blankly.
“Yeah, talks,” said Roger. “No yelling, or blasting off, or handing out demerits like they were candy. Nothing! Why he hasn’t even chewed Alfie out since we left Junior. He just sits in his quarters.”
Astro understood now and nodded his