"Atom City rocket liner now loading on Ramp Two!"
The metallic voice of the dispatcher echoed through the waiting room of the subspaceport on the outskirts of Marsport and the passengers began moving toward the field gate, where the stewards of the ship checked each ticket against the liner's seating plan. Near them, a squad of four Space Marines scrutinized all passengers carefully as they boarded the waiting jet cars that would take them to the ship far out in the middle of the field.
Tom Corbett sat at the refreshment stand in the waiting room, sipping a glass of milk thoughtfully and eying the squad of Space Marines. He wore a big-billed hat pulled low over his face and a tight-fitting black jacket, the standard uniform of a merchant spaceman.
"Anything else?" asked the pretty waitress behind the counter.
"Yeah," growled Tom. "Gimme another glass of milk and another of these crummy sandwiches."
"Well, you don't have to be rude about it!" snappedthe girl. "Somebody should teach you space tramps some manners!"
As she flounced off angrily the young cadet smiled. He knew his disguise must be good indeed to fool this young girl, who met hundreds of people at the spaceport every day and could easily recognize a person for what he truly was. Now his only hope was that the disguise would fool the squad of Marines at the gate.
After having abandoned the jet truck, Tom had moved through the glittering city of Marsport carefully, keeping to the dark alleys and shadows. Gradually he had worked his way back to the area around Sloppy Sam's where, for a few credits, he had been able to buy a merchant spaceman's clothes with no questions asked. He buried his cadet uniform in the loose ground near a construction project.
Then, staying in the area, he wandered in and out of the dingy bars and restaurants looking for the man he had seen at the spaceport, the driver of the truck that had crashed the fence.
He spent three days in his search, not daring to ask questions, simply keeping his eyes open for the man. Finally he had been forced to abandon the search when he saw a stereo newscast reporting that the missing cadet, Tom Corbett, had been traced to Skid Row. He decided that it was time to leave Mars and went to the huge main spaceport, hoping to get aboard a ship bound for Earth. But the Space Marines were stationed at every gate, examining each departing passenger carefully, and Tom knew it would be impossible to get past them. Then he noticed a poster advertising special non-scheduledflights to Atom City, Earth, at reduced rates, that would blast off from a subspaceport on the outskirts of the city. With renewed hope, he had gone there immediately and bought a ticket. Space Marines were on guard here too, but only a small squad. The cadet resolved to make his break here. He had no other choice.
"Here's your milk!" said the waitress, slopping it down on the counter before the cadet. "And your sandwich!"
Tom saw that the Space Marines were watching the passengers very closelyTom saw that the Space Marines were watching the passengers very closelyNote
Tom paid for the order and took his time about chewing the stale sandwich. He knew he had to get aboard the ship that was loading now, but the Space Marines were watching the passengers very closely. Suddenly Tom saw a spaceport attendant race up to the squad and hand a message to the sergeant in command of the squad. Leaving the counter, Tom walked quickly to a newsstand near the gate, where he could stand close to the Marines. The sergeant read the message quickly and turned to his squad. Tom strained his ears to listen.
"We have to move out of here or we'll never get out," he said. "There's a Martian sandstorm coming this way. It should hit in about fifteen minutes. This will be the last flight. Then nothing will get off the ground until it blows over. May last for days."
"But what about that cadet?" asked the man nearest to the sergeant. "What if he shows up?"
"Just about all the passengers for this flight are aboard now," growled the sergeant. "Besides, do you see him anywhere?"
Tom turned his back to the troopers quickly and heard the Marine reply, "Naw."
"Then get your gear and pile on the truck outside," ordered the sergeant, "or we'll be living in this station for a couple of days."
The Marines quickly marched away from the gate, through the waiting room, and out the door.
Tom dug into his pocket for the ticket to Atom City and stepped quickly to the gate, presenting his ticket to the steward. "Spaceman Wilson!" Tom growled.
The steward checked his ticket casually and announced, "Seat fourteen, berth twelve!"
Tom walked through the gate, trying to look casual.
"Hey you!" There was a sudden cry of alarm behind Tom and for a moment he was tempted to run. But he turned slowly and looked back. The man at the newsstand was shouting at him.
"Ya tryin' to steal my paper?" he yelled.
Tom looked down and saw that he was still holding the paper he had picked up to hide his face from the Marines. He smiled, reached into his pocket for a coin, and flipped it back to the man.
"Sorry," he called and walked on.
He hurried through a tunnel to the open area of the field where the other passengers were waiting in jet cars. He slipped into the nearest one and settled down beside a fat woman. She looked at him archly, sniffed audibly, and turned to stare out the window. Tom merely grinned and settled deeper in the seat. In a moment the jet cab was speeding across the small field to the waiting passenger ship.
Safely inside the ship, Tom sank into his assigned seat, buckled his acceleration belt, and listened to the voice of the skipper counting off the seconds until blast off.
"Five, four, three, two, one,zero!"
There was very little acceleration shock, since this was a vessel designed for the comfort of the passengers. In fact, Tom found it difficult to determine just exactly when it left the ground. The force of the drive pushed him deep in his seat, to be sure, but it was a gradual pressure and not at all like the sudden violent jerk that came when he gunned thePolaris.
He smiled. There was considerably less power in this ship than in thePolaris!
The thought of the giant rocket cruiser made him think about Roger and Astro. He wondered what they were doing and if they had stayed out of trouble.
During the trip back to Atom City, Tom kept to himself, avoiding the other passengers on the ship as much as possible, taking his meals in his berth. The cadet had a lot of thinking to do. Though temporarily safe, he knew he couldn't dodge the Solar Guard forever. He kept track of his pursuit by stereo newscasts which the ship picked up from both Mars and Earth, and he was pleased to learn that the Marines and Solar Guardsmen were still searching for him in Marsport.
There was one bit of information that was general news to the others on the ship, but of particular interest to Tom. He had sat up in his berth and listened.
"... The report of a sabotage attempt on a highly secret project now in progress at Space Academy wasdenied today by project officials and Commander Walters. The commander said there was no basis for the report that the entire control panel of a new type ship had been destroyed."
Tom switched off his set and settled back in his bunk. He saw through the denial by Commander Walters. There was no need to upset the public and, more important, let the saboteur know how successful he had been.
Though Tom knew who was responsible, this knowledge did not mean much while he was still a fugitive. He would have to have proof. He would have to have more than justhisword and accusation to make his charges stick. But how to get it?
"Attention," boomed the voice of the captain over the ship's loud-speaker. "Fasten your deceleration belts, please! We land at Atom City in thirty minutes. Fasten your deceleration belts, please!"
Certain he wouldn't be seen by the passengers and crew strapped in for the landing, Tom slipped out of his berth and down the companionway to the luggage compartment. Safely inside, he examined the contents of several expensive-looking bags, opening them by springing the locks with his knife. Finally he found a set of civilian clothes that would fit him. Leaving a hundred credits in the suitcase, more than the clothes were worth, he returned to his berth where he quickly washed, shaved, and dressed in the stolen clothes, steadying himself against the lurching of the ship as it made its landing approach.
When the ship finally touched down at the AtomCity spaceport, Tom waited in his berth until he was sure most of the passengers had left. Then he walked quickly out of the ship, head down and hat pulled low over his face, to lose himself in the crowded spaceport.
Safe for the time being, at least until the Solar Guard traced him to Earth, Tom moved openly through the streets of Atom City and went directly to the monorail station where he purchased a ticket for Space Academy. He boarded a local train instead of the express and rode the jet-propelled train in the comfort of the dining car where he had a huge meal.
The stop before the Academy was a small village that catered to the wants of the hundreds of civilian workers at the Academy spaceport. Tom had been there many times with Astro and Roger, and knew of a small hotel where he could hide out until he could contact his unit mates.
It was early evening when Tom registered at the hotel under the name of Joseph Cazippi, an engineer from Titan Colony. Safely in his room, Tom turned to the window and stared longingly at the Tower of Galileo in the distance, as it caught the last of the sun's rays and gleamed proudly against the gathering night sky.
He whirled away from the window and froze as someone knocked on the door and a young voice called:
"Lemme in, Tom!"
The young cadet gulped in fear. Someone had recognized him! He wondered if he should open the door or slip out of the window and leave.
"Hey, Tom!" the voice called. "This is Tiny! Come on, lemme in."
"Tiny!" shouted Tom in swift relief. He opened the door and a small boy of about twelve stepped inside.
"Hiya, Tom," greeted the boy enthusiastically.
Tom grinned his welcome. He and Roger and Astro had met the youngster on several of their trips to the village and had become great friends. They always had to tell him stories about the Cadet Corps.
"How did you know I was here, Tiny?" asked Tom.
"I followed you from the monorail station," replied the boy. "You couldn't fool me in those civvies. Where's your uniform?"
"Never mind that now," said Tom, kneeling before him. "Look, Tiny, can you keep a secret?"
"Sure!" said the boy gleefully. "Sure I can, Tom."
"Well, I'm on a secret assignment, see?" whispered the cadet with a conspiratorial air. "And I need someone like you to help me. But you can't tell anyone I'm here!"
"Sure, I understand, Tom. Whatcha want me to do?"
"Go to the Academy and find Astro and Roger. Tell them to come here at nine o'clock tonight. But remember, don't talk to anyone else!"
"O.K.!" replied the youngster. "I getcha! You going to catch spies, Tom?"
"I don't know yet, Tiny. But you do what I told you and then hurry right back to me and tell me what they said!"
The boy nodded and hurried off. From the window, Tom watched him climb on his jet bike and roar off into the gathering darkness toward the Academy.
It was nearly two hours before he heard the jet bikereturn and he hurried to the door, waiting impatiently for the boy to come in. When the door opened and Tiny stepped in, Tom sensed immediately that something was wrong.
"Tom!" gasped Tiny, his eyes wide with shock. "You know what happened?"
"What?"
"Roger and Astro—" the boy stopped, seemingly unable to go on.
"Didn't you see them?" demanded Tom.
"Naw, I couldn't. They wouldn't let me."
"Who wouldn't let you?"
"The guards."
"What guards? What are you talking about, Tiny?"
"The guards at the jail! Roger and Astro are on the enlisted man's work gang for six months!" said Tiny.
Hiding his shocked surprise, Tom hurriedly gave the boy a ten-credit note and swore him to silence.
"Now you hurry home, Tiny, and don't tell anyone you've seen me!" he said.
"O.K., Tom," replied the boy. "But what does it all mean?"
"I wish I knew," said Tom grimly. "And when I find out, Tiny, I promise you I'll let you know."
When Tom was finally alone, he stood at the window, staring at the gleaming tower, now lighted and shining brilliantly in the darkness. He suddenly felt that he would never see the tower again.
"Stand clear!"
Professor Hemmingwell's voice rang over the roar of activity in the hangar as the huge new control panel was lifted along the hull to a large hole that had been cut into the side of the experimental ship at the control-deck level.
"Easy does it!" called the professor, standing on the deck and peering through the hole. "Careful now!"
Now even with the hole, the panel was slowly pulled into the ship by the workers. Even Major Connel and Steve Strong lent a hand, setting it into place. When it had been securely anchored, a team of technicians swarmed over the panel to begin the intricate work of connecting all the controls to the various parts of the ship, and Hemmingwell and the two Solar Guard officers stepped back to watch them.
"This puts us back on schedule now," said the professor, turning, red-eyed and tired, to Connel and Strong. "It was a good idea of yours, Steve, to prefabricate thepanel and have it put into position all at once. If we had tried to install it piece by piece, we'd be weeks behind."
"Good work, Steve," Connel chimed in.
Strong merely nodded his thanks. He was tired. More tired than he had ever been in his life. Not only had he supervised the construction of the new control panel, but he had been working on a special report to present to the Solar Guard Review Board requesting another trial for Astro and Roger. And he had spent every spare minute haunting the MP headquarters of the Solar Guard for word of Tom. So, he accepted the compliments of Connel and Professor Hemmingwell with little enthusiasm.
"You better get some rest, Steve," said Connel, aware of Strong's attitude. "I know how hard you've been working these past few days. So knock off and I want your word that you will go back to your quarters and get some sleep!"
"Sorry, Major," replied Strong, "I can't give you my word about that."
Connel's face darkened with anger. "All right! Then do what you want. Get out!" he shouted.
Strong merely nodded and left the ship.
Outside the hangar, he stopped suddenly when he saw Dave Barret step off the slidewalk from the Academy and stride toward him. The young captain clenched his teeth in sudden anger. He had talked to Astro and Roger many times since they had been put on the work gang and they swore that their story of their ill-fated flight was true. Strong could not believe that they would lie. He had been too close to them and had, many times, put his very life into their hands. Butthere seemed to be no way to break Barret's story. He waited for the man to pass him.
"Good morning, Strong," said Barret, as though surprised. "Well, how's the genius? Get the control panel in this morning?"
Barret was annoyed that Strong's plan to replace the control panel had been accepted over his own. The captain returned his cold stare and nodded.
"It's in," he said, and then added, "I would like to ask you a few questions, Barret."
"Sorry, haven't got time!" replied Barret curtly as he tried to brush past Strong. But the young captain grabbed him by the arm and spun him around.
"Make time!" he snarled. "I want the straight story about that so-called test flight!"
Barret glared at Strong. "I suggest that you let go of my arm, Captain," he threatened, "or I will be forced to bring charges of assault against you!"
Realizing an open fight would be useless, Strong released his grip on the man's arm and turned away quickly. Barret's mocking laugh echoed in his ears as he stepped on the slidewalk and glided away toward the Academy. Behind him, the big hangar buzzed with the sound of men working in high gear again. The mighty ship and its specially designed equipment seemed at last to be ready for testing. But Strong felt none of the excitement. It mattered little to the Solar Guard captain whether the project was a success or failure. His thoughts were of the three cadets in his unit, who were, first and foremost, his responsibility.
With double guards around the hangar area and even tighter security restrictions than before, the unknown saboteur was unable to attack the precious ship again. But he struck elsewhere. The single track monorail that Barret had run into the area was blocked by an explosion in the mouth of the tunnel. Nearly a thousand tons of rock and earth had fallen on the hangar side, blocking delivery of vital equipment.
With powerful earth-moving machinery, the tunnel was cleared of the heavy rocks and dirt, and all that remained was a general cleaning up, and the enlisted man's work gangs had been assigned to that job.
Nearly a hundred tough, battle-scarred spacemen from the enlisted ranks of the Solar Guard worked in the area, stripped to the waist, their bodies burnedbrown from the sun. Sent to the work gang for petty offenses, rather than for criminal acts, the enlisted men as a whole did not mind the work. They were under guard, watched by a squad of Space Marines armed with paralo-ray guns, but there was no attempt to make the men feel as if they were criminals. Most of the sentences were short, usually running from five to thirty days, with some extreme cases serving as long as three months. But no one had ever remembered a Space Cadet working on the squad, and particularly for six months! It was an extraordinary situation and the guards, as well as the men on the work details, sympathized with Roger and Astro. They realized that nothing really serious had been done, or the boys would have been sent to the prison asteroid, where all true criminals were sent. So a true spirit of comradeship developed between the cadets and the enlisted men.
When Captain Strong arrived to speak to Roger and Astro, he found them in the tunnel, working as a team of a shoveler and a sweeper. Roger would sweep up a little pile of dirt and Astro would shovel it into a handcart nearby.
"All right, you Venusian pug!" bawled Roger. "Police the joint!"
Astro scooped up the little pile of dirt neatly and deposited it in the truck.
"Manning, what made the spaceship cross to Pluto?" he asked.
"To get to the other side of the universe," said Roger.
"All right," interrupted Strong. "If you two will cut out the comedy, I'd like to talk to you."
"Captain Strong!" yelled Roger. "Hey, fellas! Look!" He turned to the other men on the work gang. "We're special characters! See? We have visitors during working hours!"
Strong laughed with the others, and then motioning for Roger and Astro to follow him, walked to an isolated corner of the tunnel.
"How is it going?" he asked.
"Fine, sir," said Roger. "We have no complaints."
"Yeah," chimed in Astro with a grin. "The food is better here than at the Academy!"
"Give this Venusian bum a good kitchen and he'd go to the Rock!" Roger laughed.
Strong noted their lean, brown bodies and decided that a little work in the sun with a pick and shovel had done them good. But six months of it would interfere with their work at the Academy and could hold them back.
He told them of the work he had been doing to have their case renewed by the Solar Guard Review Board and asked them for any special details in their relationship with Barret that might lend weight to his plea for outright pardon, rather than just a commutation of sentence. He wanted it clear on their records that they had been accused unjustly, and that, therefore, their sentence was an error.
But neither Astro nor Roger could add anything to what the young captain already knew. He finally turned to leave, cautioning them both to stay out of trouble, especially Roger.
"Manning," he warned, "your mouth is your bigweakness. I'm detailing Astro to make sure it stays closed!"
"You see?" gloated Astro. "You see who the captain trusts!"
"Listen, you big bum!" began Roger angrily, then stopped and grinned. "O.K., Captain Strong, I'll keep on the ball."
"You'd better," Astro interrupted, "or I'll stand you on your head!"
With a pat on the back, Strong left them. Just as he was about to leave the tunnel, Roger called after him:
"Have you heard anything about Tom, sir?"
"Not a word," replied Strong grimly. "So far as I know, he's still on Mars."
"A—a fugitive?" asked Astro.
"Yes, Astro. The Solar Guard is still looking for him."
Strong watched the two cadets turn back to their work dejectedly, and then, sighing with weariness, he headed back to the slidewalk. In the morning he would check the reports of the Security Section for word of Tom. Then he squared his shoulders determinedly. He would check them now!
He could not go to bed yet. Not while Tom was still missing and while Astro and Roger were on the work gang. He would not sleep until they were free and thePolarisunit was together again out in space!
Tom Corbett was also unable to sleep. He had spent the night in the village hotel tossing and turning, his mind seething with plans to aid Roger and Astro.
Finally, at dawn, he got up and sneaked out of thehotel. Avoiding the convenience of the monorail, he struck out on foot over the rugged countryside for Space Academy. He had a plan, but the plan required that he talk to Roger and Astro first, and then to Captain Strong, but it had to be done secretly. He realized that his knowledge of the identity of the saboteur would be a more effective weapon if everyone still believed he was on Mars.
After getting close enough to the Academy to use the slidewalk system crisscrossing the huge area, he loitered on the crowded platforms which connected the hangar, the Academy, and the spaceport. He kept his coat collar high and his civilian hat pulled low over his eyes.
He was on the main slidewalk, moving toward the Tower building, when his eyes picked out the familiar close-cropped blond hair of Roger and the unmistakable bulk of Astro on the walk leading to the hangar. Changing at the slidewalk intersection, he took off after them, hoping he would not be noticed in the crowd of civilian workers. Roger and Astro were carrying tools over their shoulders and were lagging behind the main body of workers moving toward a huge tunnel opening. Tom saw his chance and moved up quickly beside them.
"Keep walking and don't show surprise!" he whispered sharply.
But it was too much to ask. Astro and Roger jumped in surprise and let out involuntary shouts of joy, which attracted the attention of the guards. They noticed the stranger in civilian clothes and stared at him.
"Tom!" exclaimed Roger. "What the devil are you—?"
"Sh!" hissed Tom. "We haven't got much time." He saw one of the guards turn and stare at him. "Listen to me," he continued quickly. "I've got important dope about the saboteur!"
"How?" gasped Astro.
"Never mind," replied Tom. "Now, to nail him, I've got to get him into the act! I need proof!"
"But who is it?" asked Roger.
"I can't tell you now. Here comes the guard. Are you going to be working around here long?"
"At least another three days," said Roger. "But who—?"
Roger noticed the guard move up to them and he suddenly straightened up and snorted derisively, "Yeah. But why a guy should want to join the Solar Guard is more than I can see. You must be wacky, mister!"
He and Astro walked away, and after a hesitant look at Tom, the guard followed the two cadets. Tom boarded the slidewalk heading back toward the Academy. So far, so good. He knew where his unit mates were, but up ahead, in the gleaming Tower of Galileo, was his second target, Captain Strong. His skipper had to listen to him, had to be sympathetic and help him catch the saboteur. It was the only way Tom could clear his own name and free Roger and Astro.
"Scott!"
"Here!" bellowed a grizzled spaceman in reply to Major Connel's call.
"Augutino!"
"Here!"
"Jones!
"Present!"
"Smith!"
"Here!"
"Albert!"
"Here!"
Connel checked the last name on the clipboard and turned to Professor Hemmingwell standing beside him at the base of the ship. "All present and ready, sir."
"Fine!" said the professor. He turned and looked around. "Where is Dave?"
"Here he comes now," said Connel.
They both watched Barret stride toward them, his arms loaded with gear.
"This is the stuff I told you about, Professor," he said as Hemmingwell looked at it curiously.
"What stuff?" asked Connel.
"Portable heaters for the crew's space suits, just in case—" Barret paused meaningfully.
"In case of what?" growled Connel.
"Why, ask them!" replied Barret, gesturing toward the group of civilian crewmen who had been selected for the test flight of the spaceship.
Connel turned to look at them, then back at Barret. "Ask them what?" he barked.
"How they feel about making this flight," said Barret.
Connel scowled and turned to the men. "Is there anything to what he says?" he demanded.
The men shuffled their feet nervously but did not reply.
"Well?" exploded Connel.
"See, they're afraid of you, Connel," said Barret, deliberately omitting the courtesy of using the major's title.
Ignoring Barret's thrust, Connel continued to face the men. "Is that right, men?" he shouted. "Are you afraid of me?"
There was a mumble from the group and then the man named Scott, a thick-set individual with black flashing eyes, stepped forward.
"Speaking for myself," he said, looking straight at the major, "I'm not afraid of anything that walks. And that includes you, Major Connel. No offense meant, it's just a statement of fact." He paused and drew a deep breath. Then he added, "But I am afraid of this ship."
"Why?" demanded Connel, who could not help admiring the man for his straightforward approach.
"She's junk-jinxed," said the man, using the expression of spacemen who believed a ship with a suspicious accident record should be junked because it was jinxed.
"Junk-jinxed!" cried Connel, amazed.
"Preposterous," snorted Professor Hemmingwell. "Why, you helped build this ship, Scotty! Do you doubt the work you've put into her? Or the work of your friends?"
"That has nothing to do with it," replied Scott stubbornly. "The others feel the same way I do."
Barret stepped forward. Arrogantly and before Connel could stop him, he began addressing the men. "Listen, you men!" he shouted. "You're being childish! Why, you built this ship! How can you possibly allow yourselves to be so stupid as to believe in an idiotic thing like a jinx. Now, why don't you just get aboard and stop being so ridiculously superstitious!"
Connel could have reached out with one of his big hands and squeezed Barret's neck to shut him up. Instead of allaying their fears, which even he would admit were real enough, the man was creating further resentment with his attack on their pride as thinking, reasoning men.
"All right, all right!" he bellowed. "That's enough for now,MisterBarret!" He turned to the men and he could tell by the expressions on their faces that he had lost them. They would not take the ship aloft. But he had to try.
"Now listen," he growled. "This is a very important project and someone has been trying to get us to wash out the whole idea. If you don't come through, he'll succeed.You are the best men in your fields, and if each of you attend to your particular job, then the ship will blast off and be a success! Now, how about it?"
He was met with the stony faces of men who were afraid. Nothing he could say or offer them would get them to take the ship off the ground. He tried a new tack. "I'm offering youdouble wages!" he roared.
The men were silent.
"Double wagesanda bonus!"
Silence.
"All right! Beat it!" he growled. "Don't ever show your faces around here again!"
Connel turned to Professor Hemmingwell. "I'll see if I can't muster a crew from the ranks of the Solar Guard," he said.
"Major," said the professor, his face worn and haggard from the long ordeal of completing the project, "I wouldn't want menorderedto man this vessel."
"They're in the Solar Guard and they take orders," said Connel.
"No," persisted Hemmingwell. "I will not let a man on that ship that does not want to go. Remember, Major, it is still my personal property."
"All right," said Connel grimly. "I'll see if I can recruit a crew from the civilian workers around the Academy."
But Major Connel encountered the same superstitious dread everywhere. The word had spread that the projectile ship was jinxed. Old tales of other ships that had gone out into space, never to be heard of again, were recalled, and the men found instances of similarprelaunching happenings on the projectile ship. Very little of it was true, of course. The stories were half-truths and legends that had been handed down through generations of spacemen, but they seemed to have special significance now.
Connel fumed and ranted, threatened and cajoled, begged and pleaded, but it was no use. There was not a man in the Academy who would set foot inside the "jinxed" ship. Finally, in a last desperate attempt, he ignored Hemmingwell's order and appealed to Commander Walters.
"No, Lou. I cannot order men to take that ship up," Commander Walters replied, "and you know it!"
"Why not?" argued Connel. "You're the commander, aren't you?"
"I most certainly am," asserted Walters, "and if I want to get other things done in the Solar Guard, I can't order men to take a jinxed ship off the ground." He looked at Connel narrowly. "Do you remember the old freighter, theSpaceglow?" he asked.
Connel frowned but didn't reply.
"You were mate on that ship before you enlisted in the Solar Guard," persisted Walters. "And I read the log of your first trip when you wrote, and I quote, 'There seems to be some mysterious and unanswerable condition aboard this vessel that makes her behave as if she had human intelligence....'"
"That has nothing to do withthissituation!" roared Connel.
"They're alike! You couldn't get a crew on that wagon in any port of call from Venus to Jupiter!"
"But we found out what was wrong with her eventually!"
"Yes, but the legend still exists that theSpaceglowhad intelligence of its own!" asserted Walters.
"All right," snorted Connel. "So we have to fight superstition! But, blast it, Commander, we're faced with a saboteur. There's nothing supernatural or mysterious about a man with a bomb!"
Connel turned abruptly and walked out of the commander's office, more furious than Walters had ever seen him.
Back at the hangar, Connel faced the professor. It was a tough thing to tell the elderly man, and Connel, for all his hard exterior, could easily appreciate the professor's feelings. After many years of struggle to convince die-hard bankers of the soundness of his Space Projectile plan, followed by sabotage and costly work stoppages, it was heart-rending to have a "jinx" finally stop him.
"I'm sorry," said Connel, "but that's the way things are, Professor."
"I understand, Major," replied Hemmingwell wearily. He turned away, shoulders slumping, and walked back to his tiny office in the shadow of the mighty ship that was anchored on the ground.
"May I speak to you a moment, Major?" a voice broke the silence in the hangar.
Connel turned around slowly. "You!" he exclaimed. "If it hadn't been for you and your big mouth, this ship might be in space right now!"
"Stop blowing your jets!" snapped Dave Barret. "Iwant to see this ship in space as badly as you do. Perhaps even more so. But listen, I'm not afraid of the jinx. Neither are you, nor is Professor Hemmingwell. We're spacemen. And we know the operation of every piece of equipment on that ship. What's to prevent us from taking her up?"
Connel looked at the young man, immediately recognizing the value of his suggestion. He nodded his head curtly. "All right," he said. "I'll take you up on that."
Barret grinned, stuck out his hand, and after a friendly shake turned and ran to the professor's office. Connel walked back to the outside of the hangar and began bellowing orders for the giant ship to be brought out to the blast ramp and prepared for the blast-off.
But Dave Barret did not go directly to Professor Hemmingwell's office. He made one stop. Looking around quickly to make sure that he was not observed, he slipped into the teleceiver booth and made a hurried call to an Atom City number. When a gruff voice answered, he merely said three words:
"It's all set!"
Roger and Astro were some distance away from the main gang, working at the tunnel mouth overlooking the hangar area.
"Look, Astro," said Roger. "They're bringing out the ship. They must be ready to blast off!"
Astro stopped his work momentarily and stared asthe huge ship was inched out of the hangar, resting on her tail fins, her nose pointing skyward.
"I'd sure like to be bucking the power deck on that baby," sighed Astro.
"Yeah, and I'd give my eyeteeth to see that radar deck," said Roger. "It must be really something with all the gear to control those projectiles when they're released."
"Do you believe any of that talk about her being jinxed?" asked Astro.
"Stop being a Venusian lunkhead!" snorted Roger. "The only thing wrong with that ship is a rocket-blasting clever saboteur."
"You know," said Astro, "I've been thinking."
"Don't strain yourself," snorted Roger. But when Astro failed to reply in kind, the blond-haired cadet realized he was serious. "What is it?" he asked.
"Why, in the name of the moons of Mars, would Barret want to do the things he did to us?"
"Simple," said Roger, beginning to sweep industriously as he saw the guard walking toward them. "He didn't like the way we manhandled him."
"You think he was just getting even with us?" asked Astro, also resuming work.
"What else?" asked Roger. "We made him look pretty silly. And that was no love tap I gave him that night we caught him in the hangar."
"That's what I mean," said Astro. "I know Major Connel said he was supposed to be there. But with that teleceiver conversation I overheard and all the rest—well, I just don't get it," he concluded lamely.
"You'll get it in the neck if you don't watch out," said Roger. "Here comes Spike and he doesn't like to see us loafing!"
The two cadets worked steadily for ten minutes, and when the guard finally walked away, they paused to watch the big ship again.
"I wonder what Tom is up to?" said Roger thoughtfully. "He said he knew who the saboteur was, but he needed help to prove it."
"I'd give a full year's leave just to get my hands on that guy for ten minutes," said Astro.
"Yeah," grunted Roger. "Well, come on, hot-shot, we still got a lot of cleaning to do."
They returned to their work, but even then, as they watched the preparations for the take-off of the big ship, they both thought about Tom. They knew his problems were as difficult as their own, and with much more at stake. If Tom failed in his efforts to catch the saboteur, it could very well mean the end of thePolarisunit.
"Bump-ty—bump-ty—bump-ty—"
Tom Corbett's heart beat with such rapid, heavy drumming that the young cadet felt as though it was going to tear itself right out of his chest.
For nearly six hours Tom had lain in wait in Galaxy Hall, the museum of Space Academy, on the second floor of the Tower building. He was hiding in the tail section of theSpace Queen, the first rocket ship to breach space safely, blasting from Earth to Luna and back again. He had kept watch through a crack in the hull of the old ship, waiting for the lights to go out, a signal that the Academy had bedded down for the night.
Now, in the silence of the museum, surrounded by the ancient objects that traced man's progress to the stars, Tom felt like crying. For as long as he had been at the Academy, he had revered these crude, frail objects and wondered if he would ever match the bravery of the men who used them. Now, unless his plan was successful, he would be finished as a cadet and thedream of being an officer in the Solar Guard would vanish forever.
The Tower building had been quiet for over an hour. Tom had not heard any voices or movement other than the evenly paced steps of the guards patrolling their lonely beats outside.