Tom Corbett Space Cadet

by Carey Rockwell

  The young cadet timed his move perfectly

  As the prisoners began to roar, Tom side-stepped and back-pedaled frantically, trying to get out of the impossible situation. If he won, there would be questions for him to answer. Questions that would be difficult and might betray his identity. But if he allowed Monkey to win, he might die right there on the deck. The man was blind with rage and would stop at nothing.

  The man rushed in again and, unable to back away, Tom felt the hairy arms close around him in the most powerful grip he had ever felt in his life. Slowly, evenly, Monkey applied pressure. Tom thought his ribs would crack. His head began to swim. The faces around him that laughed and jeered suddenly began to spin around him dizzily.

  Then, with the desperation of a man facing death, Tom began to push outward, his arms under Monkey's chin. The man tried to apply more pressure but the cadet fought him, forcing his head back farther and farther. The prisoners were silent, watching the deadly battle. Then, gradually, Tom felt the hairy man's grip relaxing. With the last ounce of his strength he burst out of the encircling arms and staggered back. The ape man looked at him stupidly and then down at his arms as if they had betrayed him. With a roar, he came rushing in again. Tom set himself, left foot forward, shoulders hunched, and when Monkey came within arm's length, he swung with all the strength he had left in his body. His fist landed on the point of Monkey's chin. There was a distinct sound of crushing bone and Monkey sank to the deck, out cold. Gasping for breath, Tom stood over the sprawled man and just looked at him. The crowd around him was staring at the fallen man in disbelief. Through the roaring in his head, Tom could hear their voices, "He broke out of Monkey's grip!" "He broke the guy's jaw with one punch!"

  Tom turned blindly to the corner where he had been sitting and slumped to the deck. Someone shoved a cup in his hands and he gulped its contents blindly, hardly tasting the foul rocket juice or feeling it burning his throat.

  The cadet was sure now that he would be caught. Monkey had been a popular member of the crew and some of his friends were certain to even the score. But to Tom's surprise, there were no questions and a few of the men came over to pat him drunkenly on the back. A couple of them dragged the unconscious man out of the compartment and up to sick bay. The others soon forgot the fight and continued their merrymaking.

  Tom sat alone and silent in the corner, his strength returning slowly. He had faced his first obstacle and had won. But he knew that what lay ahead of him made the fight insignificant by comparison. He decided his next move would be to acquaint himself with the ship and, if possible, get a paralo-ray gun.

  As the men continued their drunken singing and yelling he mumbled an excuse about soaking his fist in cold water and managed to escape from the crowded compartment.

  Outside in the passageway, the cadet began to figure out the plan of the ship, first locating the power deck by its roaring purr. He climbed a ladder to the next deck, walked slowly down the passageway toward what he thought to be the control room, and leaned against the hatch. He heard the soft tinkle of a radar signal and his heart skipped a beat. He had stumbled onto the astrogation and radar bridge. Wondering if he should burst into the room and attempt to overpower the men on duty, or wait for a better chance later, he was suddenly startled by a sharp voice in back of him.

  "You—spaceman!" Tom turned to stare right into the face of Bull Coxine!

  The big man looked at Tom with piercing eyes.

  "What's your name?" demanded Coxine.

  "Uh—uh—they call me the Space Kid!" he finally managed.

  "Space Kid, eh?" mused Coxine. "I don't remember seeing you on the Rock."

  "They held me in the tower for a month trying to make me take the psychograph rehabilitation. I got out when the blasting started."

  "What were you on the Rock for?" asked Coxine. "You're pretty young to be sent to the Rock."

  Tom thought desperately of a crime he could have committed that would send him to the prison asteroid. Suddenly he got an idea. He looked at Coxine and spoke in as harsh a voice as he could.

  "Listen," he snarled, "I just broke Monkey's jaw for treating me like a kid. I hope you don't crowd me into fighting you by asking so many questions. Y'see I won't answer them and then you'll have to freeze me." Tom paused and tried to gauge Coxine's reaction. But he couldn't see a thing in the cold staring eyes. "And," Tom continued, "if you freeze me, you'll lose a better man than most of the scum in your crew!"

  Coxine stepped forward and towered over the curly-haired cadet. When he spoke, his deep voice echoed in the deserted passageway.

  "What was your rating as spaceman before you hit the Rock?" asked the big man.

  Tom's heart raced. If he could get to the control deck or the radar bridge, he could send his signal easily. But he realized quickly that in either of these places he would be spotted almost immediately by Wallace or Simms. He had to stay away from them and wait for a later chance. Tom's mind raced.

  "I was a gunner on a deep spacer," he drawled confidently. "I can take the space tan off a crawler's nose at a hundred thousand yards with anything from a two-inch to a six-inch blaster."

  Coxine's eyes sharpened. "Where did you learn to use a six-incher? They're only on heavy cruisers of the Solar Guard!"

  Tom could have bitten his tongue off. He had slipped. He thought quickly. "I was an enlisted spaceman in the Solar Guard."

  "Why'd you get sent to the Rock?"

  "My officer was a smart-alec lieutenant just out of Space Academy. We got in a fight—" Tom didn't finish the sentence.

  "And you were kicked out, eh?"

  "No, sir," said Tom. "I hit him so hard—he never woke up again. I had to blast out of there, but they caught me."

  "All right," said Coxine. "Report to the gunnery chief. Tell him I said you're second-in-command." The big man turned and walked away from the cadet without another word.

  Tom watched him disappear and smiled. He had faced two impossible situations, the fight with Monkey and now this meeting, and he had come out on top in each. Perhaps he had a chance, after all.

  CHAPTER 13

  "Any report from the search squadrons yet, Steve?" asked Commander Walters.

  "No, sir," replied Captain Strong. "We're concentrating on the asteroid belt, but so far we've drawn a blank."

  "Well, keep trying and let me know the minute something turns up," said Walters.

  "Yes, sir," said Strong, saluting his commanding officer as the elder spaceman left the room. He turned back to a large desk in the center of the room where Roger Manning was busy noting figures on a large chart, showing the areas already covered and listing the squadrons engaged in the search.

  As Strong leaned over his shoulder, Roger placed a finger on the chart. "Squadron Ten has just completed a search of all asteroids in their assigned area," he said, then added laconically, "Nothing."

  Strong studied the chart a moment. "Well, we'll have to keep it up," he said. "It's the only way we'll find them. A systematic search of the belt from end one to the other." He paused and then muttered, "Only one thing I'm worried about."

  "What's that, sir?" asked Roger.

  "That when we do find them, it'll be too late to help Tom."

  "You really think he's aboard Coxine's ship, Captain Strong?"

  "Couldn't be anywhere else," answered Strong. "And he'll be trying to signal us, you can bet on that. Keep me posted on all radar contacts made by the search squadrons. I want a continuous six-way radar sweep by every ship."

  "Yes, sir," said Roger.

  "One more thing," said Strong, "tell Astro to get the Polaris ready to blast off. And you make sure your radar bridge is in A-one condition."

  "Are we blasting off, sir?" asked Roger.

  "Every ship we can get into space will give us a better chance of finding Coxine and his crew. Now that we've got the search fully under way there's no need to hang around here any longer."

  "Glad to hear it, sir," replied Roger. "I was getting
a little itchy to hunt for those crawlers myself. And Astro can hardly keep still."

  Strong smiled. "Don't worry, we'll find Tom," he said. "Wherever he is, you can bet he's taking care of himself and doing a good job for the Solar Guard."

  Roger's eyes twinkled. "Oh, I wasn't so worried about Tom as I was Astro, sir. He'll be pretty mad if there isn't anything left of Coxine to pay him back for slugging him."

  Strong rubbed his head and said grimly, "Astro's not the only one!"

  The blond-haired cadet left the room, and Strong wearily turned back to study the chart of the search in the asteroid belt.

  Immediately upon arrival at Space Academy, two days before, Strong had been placed in charge of the search by Commander Walters. The attack on the prison asteroid and the escape of the prisoners had created the biggest sensation in his life. From one end of the Solar Alliance to the other, the visunews and the stereos were full of the attack and escape details, with Strong's name appearing often in the headlines and news flashes. To search the asteroid belt had been his suggestion, and while he could offer no proof, he believed the attacking ship had been commanded by Wallace and Simms. Speaking only to Commander Walters, Strong had received permission to combine the search for Wallace and Simms, with the new hunt for Coxine. Strong was convinced that Coxine was behind the activity of Wallace and Simms, from the beginning at the Solar Exposition to the present.

  Strong looked at his watch. It was past midnight. He flipped a switch and paged Lieutenant Moore on the central communicators. In a few moments the young officer appeared and saluted smartly.

  "Take over here, Moore," said Strong. "I'm going to sack in for a little rest and then take the Polaris out. I'll be in constant contact with you and will direct search operations from the Polaris. You stand by here and relay all reports. We'll use code 'VISTA' for all contacts."

  "Yes, sir," said Moore. "Shall I work up charts like that one?" He pointed to the chart left by Roger.

  "Statistics here at the academy will handle that," replied Strong. "Just shoot the information down to them as you receive it. And you'd better get someone else up here to help you. You'll be here a long time."

  Moore saluted and Strong walked wearily from the room. There wasn't any need for cleverness now, thought the Solar Guard captain. When we catch Coxine, he'll fight. And when he fights, that will be the end of him!

  He went to his quarters and in thirty seconds was asleep.

  * * * * *

  "Radar bridge to control deck!" A voice crackled over the intercom aboard the newly named pirate ship, Avenger. "Hullo, control deck! Come in!"

  "Yeah?" roared Bull Coxine. "Whaddya want?"

  "Picked up a blip on the radar, Captain," replied the radar officer. "Looks to me like the jet liner from Mars to Venus."

  "Relay the pickup to the control-deck scanner and let me take a look at it," ordered Coxine.

  In a moment the big pirate was studying the scanner carefully. Wallace and Simms stood to one side. Coxine turned and looked at them with a hard glint in his eyes. "That's the jet liner, all right!" He rubbed the palms of his huge hands together and smiled thinly. "It looks like we're in business!"

  Wallace stepped forward. "You mean, you're going to—?"

  "I'll tell you what I mean," snapped Coxine, "when I want you to know it!"

  He turned to the intercom and began to bawl orders into the microphone.

  "All hands! Stand by your stations for attack!"

  There was an answering roar of approval from the crew.

  "We're making our first strike, you space crawlers! A jet liner from Mars to Venus. There'll be lots of fancy things aboard her. Things the Solar Guard wouldn't give you on the Rock!"

  There was another roar over the loud-speaker.

  "But the first man that takes anything but what I tell him will find himself on the wrong end of two big fists!"

  "We're closing in, Captain," interrupted the voice from the radar bridge. "The angle of approach is in our favor. I don't think they've seen us yet!"

  "Keep watching her, Joe," replied Coxine, and turned to his two henchmen on the control deck. "You, Wallace! Take number-one jet boat. Russell, Stephens, Attardi, and Harris. Each man will take a paralo-ray pistol and rifle. Report to your boat when I give the order."

  There was a pause as the men named scurried to their stations. Coxine continued, "The following men will come with me in boat number two. Shelly, Martin, and the Space Kid. The rest of you man the forward and aft blasters. But no one fires until Lieutenant Simms gives the order!"

  He turned to Simms and stared at the man coldly. "I'll be in contact with you all the time. You'll fire when I say to fire, and not before. Is that clear?"

  Simms nodded.

  "Range-fifty thousand yards to liner, Captain!" reported the radar bridge. "I think she's sighted us!"

  "Forward turret!" roared Coxine. "Put a blast across her bow just to show how friendly we are!"

  "Aye, aye, sir," acknowledged a voice from the gun turret.

  In the turret Tom listened to the orders to attack the helpless spaceship with mounting anxiety. If he could only plant the signal on the Avenger before going to the liner, he might be able to remain aboard the passenger ship and escape. He was interrupted in his thoughts by a rough voice in back of him.

  "Hey, Kid! Space Kid!" yelled Gaillard, the commander of the gun turret. "Come on! You heard the orders, didn't you? Get me the range."

  "Right away," answered Tom. He stepped to the range finder, quickly figured the speed of the jet liner, their own speed and the angle of approach. Racking them up on the electronic tracker, he turned back to Gaillard, "Let her go!"

  "Fire!"

  There was a thunderous noise and the Avenger rocked gently in recoil from the heavy blast. Tom quickly sighted on the range finder and saw a ball of light flash brilliantly in front of the passenger ship. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had to keep up his avowed reputation of being a crack marksman and at the same time could not damage the unarmed passenger ship. The shot had been perfect.

  "Good shooting, Kid," roared Coxine from the control deck.

  "Thanks, skipper," said Tom, aware that he had not called Coxine captain, but knowing that his earner speech to the giant pirate had earned him a certain amount of respect.

  Coxine quickly made contact with the captain of the liner on the teleceiver and the outraged captain's face sharpened into focus on the screen aboard the Avenger.

  "By the craters of Luna," exploded the skipper of the passenger ship, "what's the meaning of this? There are women and children aboard this vessel."

  Coxine smiled thinly. "My name's Bull Coxine, master of the vessel Avenger. One funny move out of you and I'll blast your ship into protons! Stand by for a boarding party!"

  "Captain! Captain!" the radar operator's voice screamed over the control-deck loud-speaker, "they're trying to send out a signal to the Solar Guard!"

  "They are, huh?" roared Coxine. "Forward turret, check in!"

  "Turret, aye!" reported Tom. He had been left alone while Gaillard issued small arms to the boarding parties.

  "Listen, Kid!" roared Coxine. "You said you're a good shot. Right now is the time to prove it. Blast away her audio antenna!"

  Tom gulped. At a range of fifty thousand yards, the antenna, a thick piece of steel cable, might as well have been a needle to hit.

  "Right, skipper," he finally replied. "I'll show you some of the fanciest shooting you'll ever see in your life!"

  He turned back to the range finder, his mind racing like a calculating machine. He figured the angles of the two ships, considering that the jet liner was a dead ship in space and the Avenger still under way, but slowing down at a specific rate of deceleration. He rechecked his figure a third and fourth time, correcting his calculations each time with the forward movement of the Avenger. If he misjudged a fraction of a degree, he might kill or injure hundreds of people aboard the passenger vessel.

  "Well?" roared
Coxine. "Are you going to fire or not?"

  "Coming right up, skipper!" shouted Tom. "Watch this!"

  Steeling himself, lest he should hit the ill-fated ship, he fired. For a brief moment he felt sick and then heard the roar of the pirate captain from the control deck.

  "By the rings of Saturn," roared Coxine, "that was the best shot I've ever seen! Well done, Kid! All right, boarding crews! Man your boats and stand by to blast off!"

  While Coxine vocally lashed the members of the murderous crew into action, Tom tried to figure out some way to get to the radar deck unseen. Being assigned to the jet boat with Coxine, instead of Wallace, had been a lucky break and Tom wished for a little more of the same. Lining up with his boarding crew, he received his paralo-ray pistol and rifle from Gaillard, deftly stealing a second pistol while the gunnery officer's back was turned.

  After hurriedly hiding the stolen gun, he slipped stealthily topside to the radar bridge. Reaching the hatch, he was about to open it, when he heard footsteps. He turned and saw a man walking toward him. It was Simms!

  "Where in the blasted universe is the jet-boat deck?" snarled Tom. He dropped his rifle on the deck and bent over to pick it up, hiding his face.

  "You're on the wrong deck," said Simms. "Two decks below. Get moving!"

  The pirate lieutenant hardly gave the cadet a glance as he brushed past and entered the radar bridge. Tom caught a fleeting glimpse of the interior. His heart jumped. The bridge was exactly like the one on the Polaris! Though annoyed that his chance had slipped past, Tom was thankful to learn that the communications equipment was thoroughly familiar.

  "Space Kid! Report to the jet-boat deck on the double!" Coxine's voice rumbled through the empty passageway. Tom dashed down the nearest ladder and hurried to the jet-boat deck where the pirate captain waited impatiently.