Tom Corbett Space Cadet

by Carey Rockwell

  "Yeah, I know," replied Roger. "What about those papers?"

  "I'll talk to you, spaceman to spaceman," said Shinny, "when you're ready to talk to me, spaceman to spaceman!"

  They were silent while the bartender slopped a glass full of bluish liquid in front of Shinny and the bottle of Martian fizz and a glass in front of Roger. Roger paid for the drinks and poured a glass of the mild sweet water. Sipping it silently, he suddenly put the glass down again and looked Shinny in the eye.

  "You know who I am," he stated quietly.

  "Yep!" replied Shinny. "You're Roger Manning, Space Cadet! Breach of honor and violation of the Spaceman's Oath. Escaped from the Venus space station on a jet liner. But one of the best men on a radar scanner and astrogation prism in the whole alliance!" Shinny related the information rapidly.

  "He had known all the time," thought Roger. "He was testing me." Roger wondered why.

  "What are you going to do about it?" questioned Roger, thinking about the one-thousand-credit reward, standard price offered by the Solar Guard for all wanted men.

  "If I had wanted to, I could have bought the finest jet liner in space with money made on Solar Guard rewards," snapped Shinny. "We got our own spaceman's code here on the Row. It goes something like this. What a man wants to bring with him down here, he brings. What he don't bring, don't exist!"

  Roger smiled and stuck out his hand. "All right, Mr. Shinny! I want a set of papers—space papers! Made out in any name, so that I can get out into space again. I don't care where I go or on what, or how long I'm gone. I just gotta blast off!"

  "You want papers for the astrogation deck, or control, or as a power pusher?" asked Shinny.

  Roger thought a moment. "Better make them for the control deck," he said.

  "Credits," said Shinny. "You have any credits?"

  "How much?" asked Roger.

  "One hundred now," said Shinny, and then added, "and one hundred when I deliver."

  "Guaranteed papers?"

  "Positively!" snorted Shinny. "I don't sell things that ain't good! I'm an honest man!"

  Roger reached inside his jersey and pulled out a small roll of crumpled credit notes. He counted off one hundred and handed them over to Shinny.

  "When do I get the papers?" asked Roger.

  "Tomorrow, same place, same time," answered Shinny.

  "What's the name of this place?" asked Roger.

  "Cafe Cosmos."

  Roger picked up his glass of sweet water, raising it in a toast to the little man in front of him. "Until tomorrow, Mr. Shinny, when you come here with the papers, or I come looking for you with bare knuckles!"

  "You don't scare me!" snapped Shinny. "I'll be here!"

  Roger tilted his chair back and smiled his casual smile. "I know you'll be back, Mr. Shinny. You see, I really mean what I say. And more important, you know I mean what I say!"

  Shinny got up. "Tomorrow, same time, same place," he said, hurrying out the door.

  Roger finished the bottle of Martian fizz, suddenly very depressed. He didn't really want the false papers. He just wanted to get away from the deadly humdrum existence on Spaceman's Row. He walked wearily back to his scrubby little bedroom to wait for night to come. He hated to go back to the room, because he knew he would think about Tom and Astro and the Space Academy. Now he couldn't allow himself to think about it any more. It was past. Finished.

  * * * * *

  "You got who?" asked Loring.

  "I said I got the best astrogator in the deep for ya!" snapped Shinny.

  Loring looked at Mason and then suddenly burst out laughing, dropping his head on the table.

  "What's the matter with you?" demanded Shinny. "You got space fever or something?"

  Mason, sitting quietly in the dirty hotel room, was grinning from ear to ear.

  "So you got Manning for us, eh?" repeated Loring at last. "I wanta tell you something, Shinny. I was the one that got that kid to break outta that space station!"

  "You what?" asked Shinny. The little spaceman had come to like the straightforwardness of Roger.

  "That's right," said Loring. "When Mason and me loused up taking over the Annie Jones, that kid, Manning, was on the radar watch at the station. At the same time we were gonna crash into the station he crossed a coupla wires and was talking to his girl back on Earth! They think he fouled up the radar and caused the crash!"

  "Then he's your fall guy," commented Shinny thoughtfully.

  "Right," said Loring. "And now you come along and tell us that we can get him to astrogate us out to Tara! I tell ya, Mason, this is the greatest gag I've heard in years!"

  "Yeah," agreed Mason, his weak mouth still stretched in a stupid grin, "but you have to be careful he never finds out it was us that got him into all his trouble!"

  "Leave that to me," said Loring. "He'll never know a thing. In fact, he'll thank us for getting him off the station and then giving him a chance to get back in space." He turned to Shinny. "You got the ship?"

  "I told you before," said Shinny, "there ain't anything to be had."

  "Well, we gotta have a ship," said Loring. "A fortune waiting for us in the deep and no space wagon to go get it!"

  "There is a ship," said Shinny. "Not too good, but a spaceship."

  "Where?" asked Loring.

  "Near Venusport. Out in the jungles, to be exact. Needs a little fixing, but it'll make a deep space hop well enough."

  "Who does it belong to?" demanded Loring.

  "Me," said Shinny, a strange twinkle in his eyes.

  "You?" gasped Loring. "By the craters of Luna, where did you get a spaceship?"

  "Fifteen years ago a freighter was forced down in the jungles right near Venusport," said Shinny. "I was prospecting near by for pitchblende, back when everybody thought Venus was loaded with it. I saw the crew leave in jet boats. Soon as they was out of sight I went over to take a look. I wanted to see if there was any grub I could swipe and save myself a trip back to Venusport for more supplies. Anyway, I went aboard and found the grub all right, but I got nosy about why they had made an emergency touchdown. I looked around the power deck and found they had busted their reaction timer. I got the idea then of fixing it up and bringing it back to Venusport to give them young jerks a surprise. I lifted her off the ground and then figured why should I give it back? Just move it someplace else and let the vines and creepers grow over it for a few days."

  "Didn't the crew come back looking for it?" asked Loring.

  "Did they?" chortled Shinny. "I'll say they did! Almost drove them poor fellers crazy. I guess they searched for that old wagon for three months before giving up."

  "And—and you mean it's still there—and in good condition?" asked Loring.

  "Needs a little fuel," said Shinny, "and probably a good overhaul, but I don't think there's anything serious the matter with it."

  "By the craters of Luna," exclaimed Loring, "we'll blast off immediately!"

  "Hold on," said Shinny. "I didn't say I'd give it to you."

  "Well, what do you want for it?" demanded Loring.

  "Now let me see," mused Shinny. "I figure that if you figure to get as much as twenty million credits out of the copper, a full quarter share ought to be about right."

  "Five million credits for a—a ship that's been rotting in the jungle for fifteen years!" exclaimed Loring.

  "She's in good shape," defended Shinny. "I go out there every six months or so and turn over the reactors just to keep 'em from getting rusty."

  "Why didn't you try to do something with it before?" asked Loring.

  "Never had no occasion to," answered Shinny. "Well, is it a deal, or isn't it?"

  "Too much," snapped Loring.

  "That's my price," said Shinny.

  "I could take the ship and not give you anything," sneered Loring.

  "If the Solar Guard looked for three months in that jungle, with a hundred men and instruments, do you think you'll find it?"

  "I'll give you a fifth share," sa
id Loring.

  "Nope," said Shinny, "I've named my price. You either take it or leave it!" He glared at Loring.

  Mason finally spoke. "Take it, Loring," he said, "and let's get out of here. I'm getting jittery over that investigation that's coming up on the station."

  "All right," said Loring, "it's a deal. One quarter share for the ship."

  "Done!" said Shinny—"Now I guess we'd better go talk to that boy Manning, eh?"

  "Don't you think it'll be a little dangerous taking him along?" whined Mason.

  "Yeah, maybe you're right," said Loring.

  "If it was me," said Shinny, "I wouldn't give it a second thought. You're going into deep space. It ain't like a hop to Mars or Titan. This is as deep as you can go. If I was you, I'd want the best there is in my crew. And from what I've heard about that young feller, he's the best there is on the radar bridge. You know who his father was?"

  "Who?" asked Mason.

  "Ken—" Shinny suddenly closed his mouth tight. "Just another spaceman," he said, "but a good one!" He rose quickly. "Well, I'm supposed to meet Manning in an hour at the Cosmos."

  The three men left the dingy hotel and walked out into the main street of Spaceman's Row. In a few moments they arrived at the Cafe Cosmos. Roger was already there, seated at the same table and watching the door. When he saw Loring and Mason with Shinny, he eyed them warily.

  "Hiya, kid!" greeted Loring. "Glad to see you took my advice and got away from 'Blast-off' Connel." Mason waved a salute, and the three men sat down.

  Roger ignored Loring and Mason, speaking directly to Shinny. "Did you complete our deal?" he asked softly.

  "Nope," answered Shinny. "I brought you another one instead."

  Roger held out his hand. "My one hundred credits—now!"

  "Never mind the credits, kid," said Loring, "we've got more important things to talk about."

  Roger continued to look at Shinny, his palm outstretched on the top of the table. "One hundred credits," he repeated coldly.

  Reluctantly, Shinny handed over the money. Slowly, carefully, Roger counted the bills, and then, after putting them away, he turned to face Loring for the first time.

  "You said you have something important to discuss with me?" he drawled.

  "I see you learned fast, kid!" said Loring with a crooked smile. "I wouldn't trust Shinny as far as I could throw a comet!"

  Mason laughed loudly. The other three merely glared at him, and he stopped abruptly.

  "Here's the proposition, Manning," said Loring, leaning across the table. "I've gotta ship and I wanta make a hop into deep space. I want you to do the astrogation!"

  "I'm interested," said Roger. "Keep talking."

  Briefly Loring described the copper satellite, its potential value, and what they expected to get out of it. Roger listened without comment. When Loring had finished, Shinny told him about the ship and its condition. When Shinny finished, Loring turned to Roger.

  "Well, Manning," he asked, "how do you like the setup?"

  "How much do I get out of it?" asked Roger.

  "One twentieth of the take," said Loring.

  "There are four of us. One full quarter-share, nothing less," drawled Roger.

  "One-fourth to Shinny and one-fourth to him," whined Mason. "That only leaves us a fourth apiece!"

  "That's more than you've got now," snapped Loring. "All right, Manning, you're in!"

  Roger smiled for the first time. "When do we blast off?"

  "As soon as we get that space wagon in shape we hit the deep!" said Loring.

  "I think I need a drink on that," said Shinny. He yelled for the bartender, who brought rocket juice and Martian fizz.

  Roger picked up the glass of the sweet water and glanced around the table.

  "What's the name of that space wagon you've got buried in the jungles, Mr. Shinny?"

  "Ain't got no name," said Shinny.

  Roger paused, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Then I propose we name her after the hearts of each of us here at the table."

  "What's that?" asked Loring.

  "Space Devil," said Roger.

  Shinny grinned, his frail body trembling slightly from his silent laughter. He held up the glass of rocket juice.

  "I propose a toast to the Space Devil!"

  "To the Space Devil," said the others together.

  "And whatever trouble she brings," added Roger softly.

  CHAPTER 11

  "Cadet Higgins!" Major Connel's voice roared over the ship's intercom as the giant rocket cruiser Polaris blasted smoothly through space.

  "Yes, sir," squeaked Alfie in reply.

  "Cadet Higgins," said Connel, "I thought I had requested a sight on the sun star Regulus at fifteen hundred hours!"

  "You did, sir," replied Alfie.

  "Then why, by the craters of Luna, don't I have that position?"

  "I was—busy, sir," came the meek reply.

  "Cadet Higgins," sighed Connel patiently, "would you be so kind as to come down to the control deck?"

  In the short space of time since their departure from the space station Major Connel had learned that to scold Cadet Higgins was not the way to gain his attention. In fact, Major Connel had not been able to find a way of getting the little cadet's attention in any manner, at any time, on anything.

  "I can't right now, sir," replied Alfie.

  "What do you mean, you can't?" exploded Connel.

  "I mean, sir," explained Alfie, "that I've just sighted Tara and I have to get a position check on her before we go any farther, to ensure that we traverse the same trajectory on our return trip and thus avoid the problem of finding a new and safe route back."

  "Cadet Alfie Higgins"—Connel's voice climbed to a frenzied shriek—"if you are not on this control deck in ten seconds, I'll personally see that you are fed to a dinosaur when we touch down on Tara and you'll never return. Now get down here!"

  Tom and Astro, who could hear the conversation over the intercom, were finding it very difficult to keep from laughing out loud at the innocence of Alfie and the outraged wrath of Major Connel.

  Tom, particularly, had discovered that Alfie's innocent refusal to be bullied by Connel had made the time pass more quickly on the long haul through deep space. More than once he had seen Major Connel rage against the underweight cadet and become even more frustrated at his childlike resistance. It had helped Tom forget the empty feeling he experienced every time he called the radar deck and heard Alfie's mild voice instead of Roger's usual mocking answer. Astro, too, had managed to forget the loneliness he felt aboard the great cruiser by watching the antics of Alfie and Major Connel. More than once he had instigated situations where Alfie would get caught red-handed in a harmless error, and then he lay flat on the power deck, laughing until his sides ached, as he listened to Alfie and Major Connel over the intercom.

  It had helped. Both Tom and Astro admitted it had helped, but it still didn't take away the dull ache each felt when an occasional remark, situation, or thought would bring Roger to mind.

  Tom flipped the teleceiver on and waited for the blank screen to show him Tara. Connel stood to one side, also watching for the image of the planet to take form on the gray-black screen. A hatch clanked behind them, and Alfie stepped into the control deck to snap to his version of attention.

  "Cadet Higgins reporting, sir," he said quietly.

  Connel stepped in front of him, placed his hands on his hips, and bent slightly, pushing his face almost into Alfie's.

  "Cadet Higgins, I want you to know I have taken all the blasted space-brained antics I'm going to take from you," said Connel quietly.

  "Yes, sir," replied Alfie blandly.

  "And," said Connel, shaking a finger in Alfie's face, "and if there is one more—just one more brazen, flagrant disregard of my specific orders, then, Cadet Higgins, I promise you the most miserable trip back to Earth you will ever know in your entire career! I promise you I'll make you sweat! I'll—I'll—" Connel stopped
short and shuddered. Alfie's owl-eyed look of innocence seemed to unnerve him. He tried to resume his tirade, but the words failed him. He finally turned away, growling, "Higgins, get up on that radar deck and do as you're told, when you're told to do it and not when you want to do it! Is that clear?"

  "Yes, sir," said Alfie meekly. He saluted and returned to the radar deck.

  "Corbett!" snapped Connel. "If I should appear to be losing control of myself when addressing Cadet Higgins, you have my official permission to restrain me. Use force if necessary!"

  Tom bit his lip to keep from laughing and managed to mumble "Yes, sir." He turned quickly to the control board and began focusing on the planet lying dead ahead of the decelerating spaceship. They had been slowing down for several days, since their speed with the added hyperdrive had been increased greatly. The young cadet adjusted the last dial and the blue-green planet sprang into clear sharp focus on the screen.

  "Why," gasped Tom. "Sir, look! It's just like Earth!"

  "In more ways than one, Corbett," replied Connel. "What's our range?"

  "I'd say we're close enough to reduce thrust to a quarter regular space speed, sir."

  "Very well," said Connel. "Now look to the right on the screen. See that small dark patch over there in the middle of the planet?"

  "Yes, sir," replied Tom.

  "That's where we want to touch down," said Connel. "You stay here on the control deck and maneuver the ship closer in while I go to the radar deck and contact Space Academy on the transmitter. I've got to report that we expect to land soon."

  "Very well, sir," said Tom. He turned and flipped the intercom switch. "Control deck to power deck," he said. "Check in, Astro."

  "Power deck here," replied Astro. "What's up, Tom?"

  "We just got our first good look at Tara. She's dead ahead. Major Connel's going to contact Space Academy, and I'm going to maneuver into our preliminary glide. Stand by for course changes."