"Halt!"
Roger growled the order into the darkness and unslung the paralo-ray rifle from his shoulder, bringing it around to firing position. "Advance and be recognized," he said flatly.
Nothing moved. Even the air seemed still.
"Advance and be recognized," Roger ordered again. Still nothing moved. The cadet glanced around quickly in the direction of the guardhouse where he knew there was a communicator to the sergeant of the guard. Should he call for help? He decided against it and moved forward toward the noise he had heard, his finger poised on the trigger of the paralo-ray gun.
"Advance and be recognized," he called again. As he walked slowly between the huge packing cases piled outside the newly constructed hangar, he saw a shadowy movement to his left. He raised the deadly ray gun, and his finger tightened on the trigger.
"Advance and be recognized," he said over the sights of the gun.
"Mee-ooo-wwww!"
A tiny white kitten flashed out of a gap between two boxes and ran to his feet, purring, rubbing up against his space boots.
"Well, blast my rockets!" Roger laughed. He slung the gun over his shoulder and reached down to pick the kitten up in his arms. He began stroking its fur and making little soothing noises. He started back to the other end of his patrol post.
"You're a cute little fella," murmured Roger, nuzzling the kitten against his chin. "But you almost got blasted."
"Guard! Stand to!"
Startled, Roger whirled around to see Firehouse Tim behind him, his battered and beaten face clouded withrage. "Drop that animal at once," the petty officer roared.
Roger stooped over to let the kitten run free and it dashed away into a crack between the boxes and disappeared.
"Manning," began the enlisted spaceman, "the next time I catch you not attending to your duty, I will bring you up on charges of neglect! Carry on!" Rush spun on his heel and vanished into the darkness.
"Blasted muscle-bound squirt!" sneered Roger under his breath, shouldering his rifle and resuming his slow patrol outside the hangar.
For three weeks, Tom, Roger, and Astro, along with the three members of theCapellaunit, had been spending close to eight hours a day on guard duty, eight to ten hours a day in classroom work, and the rest of the time studying. They only averaged some two to three hours of sleep per day. They were dead tired but they stuck to their task doggedly, without complaint.
Around them, the work on Professor Hemmingwell's project had proceeded with amazing speed. The tunnel promised by Dave Barret had been finished in less than five days, with the rail for the monorail spur installed overhead as each yard of the shaft was completed. In the second week, scores of cars loaded with building materials began rolling into the deserted plain several miles away from Space Academy. Then, one morning, nearly a thousand construction workers arrived and built a hangar in thirty-six hours. No sooner had the huge building been completed than a tight guard had been placed around it. Specially designed identificationtags were issued to the guards and workers on the project. Gradually the huge store of cases and boxes outside the hangar had been moved inside, with all but a few of the smaller ones remaining outside. The secret work inside the hangar was advancing rapidly, but this did not enter into the thoughts of the three cadets of thePolarisunit, nor of theCapellaunit. The harsh discipline instituted by Tim Rush and the extra study necessary for the end-of-year exams had forced the cadets into a round-the-clock struggle not only to keep awake but to make the class promotion lists.
Roger paced off the required distance, wheeled smartly, and in so doing came face to face with Astro, who was patrolling another side of the hangar.
"I just saw Firehouse," said Astro quietly. "Did he catch you goofing?"
"Yeah," growled Roger. "I found a kitten and he walked up just as I was holding it."
Astro grinned. "I wouldn't be surprised if that pocket-sized giant didn't send that cat down there to tempt you."
"How's Tom?" asked Roger. Astro, in his patrol, came in contact with both unit mates.
"Sleepy. He's having a tough time with that chapter on space law. He didn't sleep at all last night."
"He better keep awake," said Roger. "That little fireman's got his rockets hot tonight. He'll blast Tom sure if—"
"Wait a minute," said Astro suddenly, looking off into the darkness. "What was that?"
Roger spun around, his rifle in his hands, ready to fire. "What is it?" he asked.
"I don't know," replied Astro in a whisper. "I thought I saw something move inside the hangar." He pointed to a large window. "Sort of a shadow against the frosted glass."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure."
"I'll investigate. You get Tom and call Firehouse."
"Right," replied Astro, and raced down the path, alongside the hangar.
Grasping his rifle firmly, Roger inched toward a nearby door. He opened it a crack, then flattened himself against the wall and watched Astro run toward the other end of the hangar. He saw the big Venusian say a few quick words to Tom and then rush off toward the guardhouse and the communicator. Tom waved to Roger, indicating that he would enter the opposite door of the hangar.
Roger dropped to his hands and knees and poked his head through the open door, peering around from one end of the huge dark chamber to the other. Then, taking a deep breath, he rose and stepped quickly inside. He closed the door behind him and stood still, listening for some sound.
Suddenly there was a flash of light from the opposite wall. Roger brought the paralo-ray gun up to his shoulder quickly and was about to fire when he realized that the light he saw was Tom opening the door on the opposite side. He breathed easier and waited until hecould distinguish Tom's moving figure clearly, and then walked stealthily forward on a parallel line.
It was the first time Roger had been inside the hangar since it had been constructed and he was not sure of his way around, but gradually, the moonlight filtering in through the frosted plates of Titan crystal illuminated the huge forms of the machines around him.
He stopped and gasped. Without even realizing it, he emitted a long whistle of astonishment. Before him, reaching up into the shadows of the cavernous hangar, was the gleaming hull of a huge rocket ship. Two hundred feet long, the space vessel stood on its stabilizer fins, ladders and cables running into the open ports on both sides.
Roger waved to Tom, who had also stopped to stare at the giant spaceship, and the two of them met beneath the gleaming hull.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom. "Astro said you saw someone."
"Ididn't see a blasted thing," said Roger in an exasperated whisper. "That big goof saidhedid."
"Wow!" said Tom, looking up at the ship. "This is some baby. I never saw one with lines like that before. Look at the funny bulges on the lower side of the hull."
"Sh!" hissed Roger. "I just heard something."
The two cadets stood silently, ears cocked for the slightest sound in the huge hangar. They heard a distinct tapping sound from somewhere above them.
"It's coming from inside the ship!" said Tom.
"You climb in the other port," said Roger. "I'll take this one."
"Right," said Tom. "And remember, if there's any trouble, shoot first and ask questions later."
"Check."
Tom slipped away from Roger and moved to the opposite side of the ship. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he climbed up the ladder silently toward the open port.
Making his way noiselessly through the air lock, he entered the huge main deck of the ship and was able to see his way around by the faint glow of the emergency reflectors in the bulkheads. Tiny, sparkling gemlike pieces of specially coated Titan crystal, they glowed with steady intensity for many hours after having been exposed to any form of light. The deck was a mass of cables, boxes, tools, and equipment. Tom noticed curious-looking machines behind, what he judged to be, the odd bulges on the outside of the hull. Ahead of him, a hatch was partially open and he could see light streaking through the opening. He gripped his rifle tightly, finger on the trigger, and moved forward.
At the hatch he paused and looked into the next compartment. From the opposite side, he saw another hatch partially open and the outline of Roger's head and shoulders. Between them, a man was bending over a makeshift desk, copying information from a calculator and a set of blueprints. Tom nodded across to Roger and they both stepped into the compartment at the same time.
"Put up your hands, mister, or I'll freeze you so hard it'll take a summer on the Venus equator to warm you up," Roger drawled.
The man jerked upright, stumbled back from the desk, and moved toward Tom, keeping his eyes on Roger. He backed into the barrel of Tom's ray gun and stopped, terrified. He threw up his hands.
"What—wh—" he stammered and then caught himself. "How dare you do this to me?" he demanded.
"Shut up!" snapped Tom. "What are you doing here?"
"None of your business," the man replied.
"I'm making it my business," snapped Tom, pressing the gun into the man's back. "Who are you and how did you get in here?"
The man turned and looked Tom in the eye. "I have a right to be here," he stated coldly. "I'll show you my identification—" He brought his hands down and reached into his jacket, but Roger stepped over quickly and brought the barrel of his gun down sharply on the man's head. He slumped to the floor with a groan and was still.
"What did you do that for?" growled Tom.
Roger didn't reply. He reached down into the unconscious man's jacket and pulled out a small paralo-ray gun stuck in the top of his waistband. "Some identification," Roger drawled.
"Thanks, pal," said Tom sheepishly. "Let's search him. Maybe we can find out who he is."
As Roger bent over the fallen man, there was a commotion in the hangar outside the ship, followed by the sound of footsteps clattering up the ladders to the ports. Seconds later, Astro, followed by Tim Rush and a squad of enlisted spacemen, surged into the compartment. Rush stopped short when he saw the man on the floor.
"Great jumping Jupiter," gasped the petty officer, then whirled on Tom and Roger. "You space-blasted idiots!" he shouted. "You good-for-nothing harebrained, moronic dumbbells! Do you know what you've done?"
Tom and Roger stared at each other in amazement. Astro, standing to one side, looked confused.
"Sure we know what we've done," declared Tom. "We found this guy in here copying secrets from some blueprints there on the desk and—"
"Copying secrets!" screamed Rush. "Why, you ding-blasted idiots, that's Dave Barret, the supervisor of this whole project!"
The man on the floor stirred and Firehouse ordered the squad of enlisted men to help him up. Just then, there was a bellow of rage from the hatch. Major Connel stepped into the compartment, his face a mask of disgust and anger.
"By the rings of Saturn!" he roared. "I've been sitting in the laboratory for the last hour and a half waiting for Dave Barret to come back with vital information, so we could get on with our experiments, and I find that you—you—" Connel was so furious, he could hardly talk.
He faced the three cadets. "There isn't anything in the books that says you should be disciplined for this—this—outrage, but believe me, Cadets"—his voice sounded like thunder in the small compartment—"this is the very last time I'll stand for this kind of stupidity."
Tom gulped but stepped forward bravely. "Sir," he said clearly, "I would like respectfully to submit the facts for the major's honest consideration. Neither of us has ever seen this man before and we found him copyinginformation from these blueprints. When I challenged him, he said he was going to show us his identification. He put his hands in his jacket to get it, but Roger saw a gun in his belt, and thinking he was going to use it, Roger hit him on the head." Tom stopped, clamped his mouth shut, and stared the major in the eye. "That's all, sir."
Connel returned the stare, his eyes meeting those of the cadet for a full half minute. "All right," he said finally. "I guess it's just a case of misjudgment. But," he added scathingly, "in the face of thePolarisunit's record, you can understand my initial opinion."
As Dave Barret was assisted from the ship by the guards, Connel turned to Rush. "Firehouse!" he barked.
"Yes, sir?"
"See that these cadets don't cause any more mischief."
"Yes,sir."
"Dismissed," snapped Connel.
"All right, you space brats," bellowed Rush, "back to your patrol!"
Tom, Roger, and Astro left the ship and returned to their posts outside the hangar. Just before they separated to resume their endless march around the hangar, Tom winked at his unit mates. "At least we didn't get demerits," he said.
"Only because Connel couldn't find any reason to give them to us," sneered Roger. "What a busted rocket he's getting to be!"
"Yeah," agreed Astro quietly.
The three cadets began their round again, their eyesheavy with lack of sleep, their arms and legs leaden, and their desire to become successful Space Cadets more determined than ever. But they didn't know they had started a chain reaction that would affect their very lives.
"We passed!"
Tom turned away from the lists posted on the dormitory bulletin board and with his arms around Astro and Roger pushed through the knot of cadets.
"Yeow!" bellowed Astro.
"We made it," murmured Roger with a note of disbelief in his voice. "We made it!" And then, with the realization that he was still a Space Cadet for at least another term, he turned and began pounding Astro on the back. "You big Venusian ape, we made it."
Arm in arm, the three cadets strolled across the quadrangle and shouted to friends they passed. Occasionally they fell silent when they saw a boy carrying his gear to the supply building. These had failed to pass the rigid examinations.
Near the Tower of Galileo, the cadets came face to face with Tony Richards, McAvoy, and Davison. The two units looked at each other silently, remembering what had happened only four short weeks before. Then they all smiled and pounded each other on the back,congratulating each other on passing. Neither of the units had made top honors as a result of their fight and the trial, and having to spend so much time on guard duty, but they had passed and that was the most important thing. The boys all adjourned to the credit exchange and gorged themselves on Martian fruit pies covered with ice cream. Finally the party broke up when Tom remembered that he and his unit mates had to go on guard duty in half an hour.
"Well," said Tony Richards, rising, "we relieve you guys at midnight, so we might as well hit the sack right now. I've been waiting for this night for a long time."
"No study," sighed Davison. "What heaven! I feel as if I've been pardoned from prison."
The three boys of theCapellacrew said good-by to Tom, Roger, and Astro, and walked off. Tom settled back in his chair and sighed. "Sure wish I was in their boots," he said. "I don't see how I'm going to get through tonight."
"Don't think about it," said Roger. "Only seven more days to go, and then we go on summer cruise with thePolaris."
"I can't wait to get back on that power deck," said Astro. "It'll be like going home."
Later, riding the new slidewalk to the area where the huge hangar had been built, they saw Captain Strong returning from the restricted area on the other slidewalk. They hopped off their walk and waited for the young officer.
"I'm happy that you passed the exams, boys," he said. "And I want you to know Commander Walters andMajor Connel think a lot more of you, though they wouldn't admit it, for the way you worked to make it."
"Thank you, sir," said Astro respectfully.
"You'll have to excuse us, sir," said Tom. "We've got to get out to the hangar and go on guard."
"Yes, and you'd better hurry," said Strong. "After that mix-up with Dave Barret, Firehouse Tim has his eye on you. Barret put up quite a fuss about it."
"I still don't see how Mr. Barret got in there," said Tom. "The fourth side of the hangar faces the hills, and we three covered the other three sides."
"However he got in," interrupted Strong, "he had a right to be there. And he also had a right to carry sidearms."
"Captain Strong," said Roger, "we've talked about it a lot, the three of us. And we decided that regardless of what Major Connel or Firehouse or Barret have said, we'd do the same thing, in the same way again."
"I think you're perfectly right, Manning. But don't quote me," said Strong, his voice serious. "This is one of the most important projects I've ever been connected with and—" He stopped suddenly. "Well, I can't tell you any more. That's how tight the security is on it."
"But everyone knows that it's a projectile that will home on a target, sir," said Tom.
"Yes, that was given to the stereos for general news release, but there are other factors involved, factors so important that they could revolutionize the whole concept of space flight."
"Wow!" said Tom. "No wonder they have this place so well guarded."
"Humph," snorted Roger. "I'd give up the opportunity of guarding this revolutionary secret for one night's good sleep."
"You'll get that tomorrow when we go off duty," said Tom. "And please, Roger, no blunders tonight, eh? Let's not take any chances of losing the summer cruise in thePolaris."
"Listen! You want to talk to the Venusian hick about that, not me," declared Roger. "He's the one that spotted Barret."
"But you hit him on the head," growled Astro. "You and your catlike reflexes." The big cadet referred to a recent letter he had seen in which one of the blond-haired cadet's many space dolls referred to his sensitivity as being that of a poet, and his dancing as smooth as the reflexes of a cat.
Roger spun on the big cadet. "You blasted throwback to a Venusian ape!" he roared. "If I ever catch you reading my mail again—"
"You'll what?" growled Astro. "You'll do just exactly what?" He grabbed Roger by the arm and held him straight out, so that he looked as if he were hanging from a tree.
Strong laughed and shook his head. "I give you three to the loving, tender care of Firehouse Tim," he said, hopping over on the moving slidewalk, back to the Academy.
"Put me down, you overgrown idiot," Roger howled.
"Not until you promise not to threaten me with violence again," said Astro with a wink at Tom. The young curly-haired cadet doubled up with laughter. FinallyRoger was lowered to the ground, and, though he rubbed his shoulder and grumbled, he was really pleased that Astro felt like roughhousing with him. The events of the last few weeks had so tired all of them that there had been no energy left for play.
Lightheartedly they stepped over to the slidewalk and were back on their way to the secret project.
Two huge wire fences had been built around the hangar area now, fences carrying a surge of paralyzing power ready to greet anyone that dared touch it. More than twenty feet high, the outer fence was buried six feet into the ground and was some hundred yards away from the hangar building itself, and fifty yards away from the second fence. The entire area was also guarded by radar. Should any unauthorized person or object be found in that area, an automatic alarm sounded and in fifteen seconds a hundred fully armed guards were ready for action. The men who had been cleared by security to work in and around the restricted area wore specially designed belts of sensitized metal that offset the effects of the radar. But the fence was still the untouchable for everyone.
Tom, Roger, and Astro had now been moved inside the hangar itself, to stand guard over the only three doors in the cavernous structure. They were armed with powerful heat blasters. These rifles were different from the paralo-ray guns they had used previously. A beam of light from the ray guns would only paralyze a human being, while the blaster destroyed anything it touched, burning it to a crisp.
As soon as the three cadets saw the change in armament, they knew they were guarding something so secret that human life, if it interfered with the project, would be disintegrated. Only once before, on a hunting trip to Venus, had they ever used the blasters, but they knew the deadly power of the weapons.
Nothing was said to them. Firehouse Tim had not posted any special orders or given them any special instructions. Each man who worked inside the hangar had to pass a simple but telling test of identification. On a table at each entrance to the hangar was a small box with a hole in the top. Each worker, guard, and person that entered the hangar had to insert a key into the hole and it made contact with a highly sensitive electronic device inside. The keys were issued only by Major Connel or Captain Strong, and should anyone attempt to enter the hangar without it, or should the key not make the proper contact, lighting up a small bulb on the top of the box, Tom, Roger, and Astro had simple instructions: Shoot to kill.
This form of identification had been employed for some time now, even before the wire fence had been installed, but the really spectacular change was in the heat blasters each guard carried. This, more than anything else, impressed on everyone connected with the project, that to move the wrong way, to say the wrong thing, or to act in any suspicious manner might result in instant death.
It was a mark of trust that Tom, Roger, and Astro had been placed in such a highly sensitive position. They could kill a man and simply explain, "The light didn'tgo on!" and that would be the end of it. Neither of them knew that Connel had specifically requested that they be assigned to the day shift, when the hangar would be crowded with workers, who, intent on their assigned jobs, might be careless and leave themselves open to instant action on the part of the guards. Connel reasoned that Tom, Roger, and Astro, aside from their occasional antics in the Academy, would be more responsible than rough enlisted spacemen. The orders were specific: shoot to kill, but there was almost always one poor human being who would forget. In spite of the necessity for tight security, Connel felt he had to allow for that one percent of human failure. Secretly he was very happy that he had a crack unit like thePolaristo place in such a job. And theCapellaunit had been entrusted with the same responsibility.
It was under such tight conditions that Astro, watching the least busy of the three entrances and exits, saw Dave Barret walk to a nearby public teleceiver booth, and, with the door ajar, place a transspace call to Venusport.
The booth was used often by the workers and Astro did not think much of it, until he accidentally overheard Barret's conversation.
"... Yeah, I know, but things are so tight, I can't even begin to get at it." Barret had his mouth close to the transmitter and his voice was low, but Astro could still hear him. "Yeah, I know how important it is to you, but I can be burned to a cinder if I make one false move. You'll just have to wait until I find an opening somewhere. Good-by!"
Barret switched off the teleceiver set and stepped out of the booth to face the muzzle of Astro's blaster. "Stand where you are!" growled the big cadet.
"What, why you—" Barret clamped his mouth shut. There was a difference between being frozen and being blasted into a crisp.
Astro reached over and touched the button that would alert a squad of guards, Major Connel, and Tim Rush. In a flash the alarm sounded throughout the hangar and troopers stormed in brandishing their guns. Firehouse Tim and Connel arrived seconds later. They skidded to a stop when they saw Barret with his hands in the air and Astro's finger on the trigger of the blaster.
"By the blessed rings of Saturn!" roared Connel. "Not again."
"Put down that gun," demanded Rush, stepping forward quickly. Astro lowered the gun and Barret dropped his hands.
"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Connel, his face reddening with rage.
Astro turned and looked the major right in the eye. "Major," he said calmly, "this man just made a teleceiver call—a transspace call to Venusport."
"Well, what about it?" cried Barret.
"Sir," said Astro, unruffled by Barret's screaming protest, "this man spoke of getting at something, and that he was unable to do so, because he might be burned to a cinder. And the other party would have to wait until he found an opening."
"What!" exclaimed Connel, turning to look at Barret. "What is the meaning of this, Barret?"
"Why, that knuckle-headed baboon!" yelled Barret. "Sure, I made a transspace call to Venusport—to the Venusian Atomic By-Products Corporation."
"What was the call about?" demanded Connel.
The guards had not moved and the workers in the hangar were now gathering around the small knot of men by the teleceiver booth.
"Why—I—"
"Come on, man!" shouted Connel. "Out with it."
"I called about getting a new timer for the projectile fuel-injection system," snapped Barret. "The timer is too slow for our needs. I wanted to adjust it myself, but the projectile is so compact, I can't get at it without taking a chance of getting doused by the fuel."
"What about that remark about finding an opening?" growled Connel.
"What's going on here?" called Professor Hemmingwell as he bustled up to the group. "Why aren't these men working? Dave, why aren't you up there—?"
"Just a minute, Professor!" Connel barked, and turned back to Barret. "Go ahead, Barret."
"They can't make a new timer until I find a way of installing it without taking apart the whole projectile," said Barret, adding sarcastically, "in other words, Major—finding an opening."
"All right," barked Connel. "That's enough." He turned to the assembled workers. "Get back to work, all of you." The men moved away and Firehouse Tim led the guards back to their quarters. Professor Hemmingwell, Barret, and Astro remained where they were.
Connel turned to Astro. "Good work, you dumbVenusian," he snorted. "But so help me, if you had burned this man, I, personally, would've buried you on a prison rock." The major then turned to Barret. "As for you—" he snarled.
"Yes?" asked Barret coolly.
"You make one more call like that over a public teleceiver," Connel roared, "especially a transspace call that's monitored by the idiots in the teleceiver company, and I'll sendyouto a prison asteroid!"
"Now, Major," said Hemmingwell testily, "I don't think you should speak to Dave that way. After all, he's a very valuable man in this project."
"How valuable would he be if this cadet had gone ahead and blasted him?" snarled Connel.
"It's just another example of how these stupid boys have obstructed my work here," replied Hemmingwell angrily. "I can't see why they have to interfere this way. And they always pick on poor Dave."
"Yes," snarled Barret. "I'm getting pretty tired of being a clay pigeon for a bunch of brats." He turned to Astro. "You'll have a head full of socket wrench if you mess with me again."
"You'll get a receipt, Barret," growled Astro. "Paid in full."
"All right, break it up," growled Connel. "Back to your post, Astro. And you get back to work, Barret, and remember what I said about using that public teleceiver."
Barret and Hemmingwell walked off, with the little professor talking rapidly to the younger scientist, trying to calm his anger.
Astro, Tom, and Roger were extraordinarily strict about the exit of the workers that night and there was angry muttering in the ranks of the men who wanted to get home. But the three cadets refused to be hurried and made each man perform the ritual of getting out to the letter. Still later, after they had been relieved by theCapellaunit and had told them of the incident between Astro and Barret, they headed back to the Academy dormitory more tired than they had ever been before in their lives. Thirty seconds after reaching their room, they were asleep in their bunks, without undressing or washing. Like whipped dogs, they sprawled on their bunks, dead to the world.
Sabotage!
Major Connel, Commander Walters, Captain Strong, Professor Hemmingwell, and Dave Barret stared unbelievingly at the tangle of wires and smashed tubes on the main deck of the sleek spaceship.
"Get every man that has been in this hangar during the last twenty-four hours and have him brought under guard to the laboratory for psychographs." Commander Walters' face was grim as he snapped out the order.
Professor Hemmingwell and Barret got down on their hands and knees and examined the wrecked firing device carefully. After a long period of silence, while Strong, Walters, and Connel watched them pawing through the tangle of wires and broken connections, Hemmingwell stood up.
"It can be replaced in twelve hours," he announced. "I believe that whoever did this either didn't know what he was doing, or it was an accident."
"Explain that, will you, Professor?" asked Strong. "I don't understand."
"This is an important unit," Hemmingwell replied, indicating the wreckage, "but not the most important part of the whole unit. Anyone who really knew what he was doing and wanted to delay the project could have done so much more easily by simply destroying this." Hemmingwell held out a small metallic-looking cylinder.
"What is that, Professor?" asked Barret.
"Don't you know?" asked Connel.
"No, he doesn't," snapped Professor Hemmingwell. "This is something I developed that only the commander and myself know about."
"So, if you and Commander Walters are the only ones that know about it," said Steve Strong slowly, "then a saboteur would have thought it unimportant and concentrated on the rest of the mechanism."
"Looks that way," mused Connel. "But there is still the possibility that it was an accident, as the professor said."
Strong looked at Connel questioningly and then back to the wreckage. The unit had been hurled from the upper deck of the spaceship, down to the main deck, and it looked as if someone had trampled on its delicate works.
"I'll have a crew put right to work on this," said Hemmingwell.
"Commander," Connel suddenly announced, "I'm going ahead with my trip to Mars to inspect the testing receivers. I don't think this incident is serious enough for me to delay leaving, and if Professor Hemmingwell and his men can get this unit back in operation in twelve hours, then there's very little time lost and we can go ahead with the tests on schedule."
"All right, Lou," said Walters. "Do whatever you think best. I'll have a ship made ready for you at the Academy spaceport any time you want to leave."
Connel nodded his thanks. "I think I'll take thePolaris, with Cadet Corbett along as second pilot," he said. "I'm getting too old to make a solo hop in a scout all the way to Mars. I need my rest." He grinned slyly at Walters.
"Rest," Walters snorted. "If I know you, Lou Connel, you'll be up all night working out standard operational procedures for the space projectiles." He turned to Strong. "He's so sure this will work that he's already writing a preliminary handbook for the enlisted personnel."
Strong turned and looked at the major, amazed. Every day he learned more and more about the space-hardened veteran.
Connel turned to Strong. "Will you give Corbett the order to be ready at 0600 hours tomorrow morning, Steve?" he asked.
"Certainly, Lou," replied Strong.
As the major turned away, Walters called after him, "Take it easy."
Leaving Hemmingwell and Barret to take care of clearing away the wreckage, Strong and Walters climbed out of the ship, left the hangar, and headed for the Academy.
"Do you think it was sabotage, sir?" asked Strong, as they rode on the slidewalk.
"I don't know, Steve," said the commander. "If that special unit of Hemmingwell's had been damaged, I would say it might have been an accident. But the things that were damaged would have put the whole works out of commission if we didn't have that unit."
"Yes, sir," said Strong grimly. "So the man who did it thought he was doing a complete job."
"Right," said Walters. "Assuming that it was sabotage."
"Anyone you suspect?"
"Not a living soul," replied Walters. "Every man in that hangar has been carefully screened by our Security Section. Background, history, everything. No, I think it really was an accident."
"Yes, sir," replied Strong, but not with the conviction he would like to have felt.
Pat Troy had been Professor Hemmingwell's foreman for nearly two years. It was his job to read the complicated blueprints and keep the construction and installation work proceeding on schedule. Troy lacked a formal education, but nevertheless he could read and interpretthe complicated plans which the professor and his assistants drew up, and transform their ideas into actual mechanical devices. Professor Hemmingwell considered himself fortunate to have a man of Troy's ability not only as a co-worker, but as a close friend.
But Dave Barret did not like Troy, and he made this dislike obvious by giving Troy as much work as possible, mainly tasks that were beneath his ability, claiming he only trusted the trained scientists. Barret put the professor in the position of having to defend one to the other. He needed both men, both being excellent in their respective fields, and found it more and more difficult to maintain any kind of peaceful relationship between them. Barret, as Hemmingwell's chief assistant and supervisor of the project, was naturally superior in rank to Troy, and made the most of it. A placid, easy-going man, Troy took Barret's gibes and caustic comments in silence, doing his work and getting it finished on time. But occasionally he had difficulty in controlling his resentment.
The day after the accident, or sabotage attempt on the firing unit, the hangar was quiet, most of the workers still being psychographed. Troy, one of the first to be graphed, had been detained by the technicians longer than usual, but was now back at his bench, working on the unit. This incident gave Barret the opportunity he was looking for, and as he and Professor Hemmingwell strode through the hangar, he commented casually, "I hate to say this, sir, but I don't like the way Troy has been acting lately."
"What do you mean, Dave?" asked Hemmingwell.
"I depend a great deal on instinct," replied Barret. "And as good as Troy's work has been, I feel the man is hiding something."
"Come now, Dave," snorted the professor. "I've known him a long time. I think you're being a little harsh."
As Barret shrugged and didn't reply, a troubled expression crossed Hemmingwell's face. "But at the same time," he said slowly, "if you have any reservations, I don't suppose it would hurt to keep an eye on him."
"Yes!" agreed Barret eagerly. "That's just what I was thinking."
They reached the workbench where Troy, a small man with powerful arms and shoulders, was working on a complicated array of wires and vacuum tubes. He looked up, nodded casually at the two men, and indicated the instrument.
"Here it is, Professor," he said. "All ready to go. But I had a little trouble fitting that coil where the blueprints called for it."
"Why?" Barret demanded. "I designed that coil myself. Isn't it a little odd that a coil I designed, and the professor O.K.'d, should not fit?"
"I don't care who designed it," said Troy easily. "It didn't fit where the blueprint indicated. I had to redesign it."
"Now, now," said Professor Hemmingwell, sensing trouble. "Take it easy, boys."
"Professor," Barret exploded, "I insist that you fire this man!"
"Fire me!" exclaimed Troy angrily. "Why, you spacecrawler, you're the one who should be fired. I saw you come back to the hangar the other night alone and...."
"Of course I did!" snapped Barret. "I was sent down here to get information about—" He stopped suddenly and eyed Troy. "Wait a minute. How could you see me down here? What were you doing here?"
"Why—I—" Troy hesitated. "I came down to check over some equipment."
"Why were you detained at the psychograph tests this morning?" demanded Barret.
"None of your business!" shouted Troy. "I was doing my job. That's all."
"I'll bet," snapped Barret. "Professor, here is your sabotage agent. Who are you working for, Troy?"
"None of your business," stammered Troy, seemingly confused. "I mean, I'm not working for anyone."
"There! You see, Professor!" shouted Barret.
"I think you'd better explain yourself, Pat," said the professor, looking troubled and suspicious. "Why were you detained so long this morning?"
"They were asking me questions."
"What kind of questions?" demanded Barret.
"I'm not allowed to tell you."
"What were you doing here the other night?" pursued Barret. "The night you saw me here."
"I came down to check our supplies. I knew that we were running short on certain equipment."
"What kind of things?" demanded the professor.
"Well, the timers on the oscillators," Troy replied. "I knew we would need them for the new units you and Commander Walters were planning."
"Guard!" shouted Barret suddenly. "Guard!" He turned and called to Roger and Astro, who were standing guard at the doors. They both came running up, their blasters held at ready.
"What is it?" demanded Astro. "What's going on here?"
"Arrest that man!" shouted Barret. Astro and Roger looked questioningly at Troy. They did not know him personally but had seen him around the hangar and knew that he worked closely with the professor and Barret.
Still vaguely distrustful of Barret's behavior, Astro turned to Hemmingwell. "How about it, Professor?" he asked. "Do we haul this guy in?"
Hemmingwell looked at Troy steadily. "Pat, you knew about that new unit I was building?"
"Yes, sir," replied Troy forthrightly. "I accidentally overheard you and Commander Walters discussing it. From what you said about it, I knew you would need new timers for the oscillators—"
Roger and Astro had heard about the vital unit that had not been destroyed, and realized that Troy was admitting to knowledge he shouldn't have had. Roger raised the blaster menacingly. "All right, buster!" he growled. "Move this way and move slowly."
"Professor," exclaimed Troy, "you're not going to let them—!"
"I'm sorry, Pat," said the professor, a dejected look in his eyes. "I have nothing to do with it now. You should have told me that you knew about the new unit. And the fact that you were here the night it was destroyed,well—" He shrugged meaningfully and turned away.
"All right, buster," growled Astro, "do you move or do I move you? It makes no difference to me."
Troy took a look at the blasters leveled at him and silently walked between them to the hangar door. Barret and Professor Hemmingwell remained at the workbench, following the trio with their eyes.
Later, after Troy had been safely locked in the Academy brig, Firehouse Tim Rush sat at his desk in the small security shack taking down the two cadets' reports.
"... And upon the orders of Dave Barret and Professor Hummingbird—" Roger was saying.
"Hemmingwell," snapped Firehouse. "Hemmingwell."
"—Hemmingwell"—nodded Roger with a wink at Astro—"we brought the suspect to the officer of the guard, Firehouse Tim Rush."
"Can that Firehouse, ya squirt!" growled Rush. "Only my friends can call me that. And you two are not in that classification."
"O.K., Fireman," said Roger. "I can call you Fireman, can't I? After all, you are a pretty hot rocket, and—"
"Get back to your posts!" roared Firehouse Tim in his loudest voice.
Roger and Astro grinned and hurried out of the small building. Before resuming their posts in the hangar, the two cadets stopped at an automatic soda dispenser. As they drank slowly, they looked around the hangar. The project was back in full operation now. The workersthat had been cleared had heard about the arrest of their foreman, and there seemed to be more talk than work.
Dave Barret walked over to Roger and Astro. Nodding in a surprisingly friendly fashion, he said, "I want to commend you two boys on your good work a while ago. I think that traitor would have tried anything if you hadn't been there. He might even have tried to kill me or the professor."
Roger and Astro mumbled curt thanks for the compliment.
Barret looked at them quizzically. "No need for us to be angry with each other," he said smoothly. "I realize that when we had our two little run-ins you were carrying out your duties, and I apologize for behaving the way I did. How about it? Can we shake and forget it?" He held out his hand. Astro and Roger looked at each other and shrugged, each in turn, taking the young man's hand.
"You know," said Barret, "I've heard a lot about you three cadets of thePolarisunit. Especially you, Manning. I understand that you know almost as much about electronics as your instructor at the Academy."
Roger grinned shyly. "I like my work."
"Well, blast my jets!" roared Astro. "That's the first time I have ever heard Manning accept a compliment gracefully." The big Venusian turned to Barret. "He is not only the finest astrogator in the whole high, wide, and deep," he said sincerely, "but he could have had a wonderful career in electronics if he didn't want to be a rocket jockey with me and Corbett."
"Is that so?" murmured Barret politely. "Well, Manning, you must have some ideas about the work that's going on here."
"I sure have," said Roger. "And I see a lot of things here that could be done a lot easier."
"Hum," mused Barret. "You know something. I think I might be able to relieve you two of guard duty. After all, if Corbett can get out of it, I don't see why I can't put your talents to work for us here. How about it?"
Both boys almost jumped straight up in the air.
"That would be terrific, Mr. Barret!" exclaimed Astro.
"Call me Dave, Astro. We're friends now, remember?"
"Sure, Dave," stuttered Astro. "But listen, we'd do anything to be taken off this detail and get Firehouse off our necks."
Barret smiled. "All right. I'll see what I can do." He turned and walked off, giving them a friendly wave in parting.
Astro and Roger could hardly believe their luck. They returned to their posts and took up guard duty again with light hearts.
In his small private office, Barret watched them through the open door to the hangar and then turned to his desk, to pick up the recently installed private audioceiver. He asked for a private number in a small city on Mars, and then admonished the operator, "This is a security call, miss. Disconnect your circuit and do not listen in. Failure to comply will result in your immediate dismissal and possible criminal prosecution."
"Yes, sir," replied the operator respectfully.
There was a distinct click and Barret heard a gruff voice.
"Hello?"
"This is Barret," the young designer whispered. "Everything's going fine down here. I just had the foreman arrested to throw them off the track, and I have a plan to get rid of two of these nosy cadets." Barret listened a minute and then continued. "Connel and the other cadet, Corbett, have gone to Mars to inspect the receivers. Don't worry about a thing. This ship will never get off the ground. And if it does, it will never fire a projectile."
Barret hung up and returned to the open door. He waved at Roger and Astro on the other side of the hangar and the two cadets waved back.
"Like lambs to the slaughter," he said to himself.