The Tom Corbett Space Cadet Megapack: 10 Classic Young Adult Sci-Fi Novels

by Norton, Andre

  “Touchdown!” yelled Tom. “Cut everything, fellas, and come up and sign the log. We made it—our first hop into space! We’re spacemen!”

  CHAPTER 10

  “The next event will be,” Warrant Officer McKenny’s voice boomed over the loud-speaker and echoed over the Academy stadium, “the last semifinal round of mercuryball. Polaris unit versus Arcturus unit.”

  As two thousand space cadets, crowded in the grandstands watching the annual academy tournament, rose to their feet and cheered lustily, Tom Corbett turned to his unit-mates Astro and Roger and called enthusiastically, “O.K., fellas. Let’s go out there and show them how to play this game!”

  During the two days of the tournament, Tom, Roger and Astro, competing as a unit against all the other academy units, had piled up a tremendous amount of points in all the events. But so had Unit 77-K, now known as the Capella unit. Now with the Capella unit already in the finals, the Polaris crew had to win their semifinal round against the Arcturus, in order to meet the Capella in the final round for Academy honors.

  “This is going to be a cinch,” boasted Astro. “I’m going to burn ‘em up!”

  “Save it for the field,” said Tom with a smile.

  “Yeah, you big Venusian ape,” added Roger. “Make points instead of space gas.”

  Stripped to the waist, wearing shorts and soft, three-quarter-length space boots, the three boys walked onto the sun-baked field amid the rousing cheers from the stands. Across the field, the cadets of the Arcturus unit walked out to meet them, stopping beside McKenny at the mid-field line. Mike waited for the six boys to form a circle around him, while he held the mercuryball, a twelve-inch plastic sphere, filled with air and the tricky tube of mercury.

  “You all know the rules,” announced McKenny abruptly. “Head, shoulders, feet, knees, or any part of your body except your hands, can touch the ball. Polaris unit will defend the north goal,” he said, pointing to a white chalk line fifty yards away, “Arcturus the south,” and he pointed to a line equally distant in the opposite direction. “Five-minute periods, with one-minute rest between. All clear?”

  As captain of the Polaris unit, Tom nodded, while smiling at the captain of the Arcturus team, a tow-headed boy with short chunky legs named Schohari.

  “All clear, Mike,” said Tom.

  “All clear here, Mike,” responded Schohari.

  “All right, shake hands and take your places.”

  The six boys shook hands and jogged toward respective opposite lines. Mike waited for them to reach their goal lines, and then placed the ball in the middle of a chalk-drawn circle.

  Toeing the line, Tom, Roger and Astro eyed the Arcturus crew and prepared for the dash to the ball.

  “All right, fellas,” urged Tom, “let’s show them something!”

  “Yeah,” breathed Astro, “just let me get my size thirteens on that pumpkin before it starts twisting around!”

  Astro wanted the advantage of the first kick at the ball while the mercury tube inside was still quiet. Once the mercury was agitated, the ball would be as easy to kick as a well-greased eel.

  “We’ll block for you, Astro,” said Tom, “and you put every ounce of beef you’ve got into that first kick. If we’re lucky, we might be able to get the jump on them!”

  “Cut the chatter,” snapped Roger nervously. “Baldy’s ready to give us the go ahead!”

  Standing on the side lines, Warrant Officer McKenny slowly raised his hand, and the crowd in the grandstand hushed in eager anticipation. A second passed and then there was a tremendous roar as he brought his hand down and blew heavily on the whistle.

  Running as if their lives depended on it, the six cadets of the two units raced headlong toward the ball. Tom, just a little faster than Roger or Astro, flashed down the field and veered off to block the advancing Schohari. Roger, following him, charged into Swift, the second member of the Arcturus crew. Astro, a few feet in back of them, running with surprising speed for his size, saw that it was going to be a close race between himself and Allen, the third member of the Arcturus unit. He bowed his head and drove himself harder, the roar of the crowd filling his ears.

  “…Go Astro!…Go Astro!...”

  Pounding down for the kick, Astro gauged his stride perfectly and with one last, mighty leap swung his right foot at the ball.

  There was a loud thud drowned by a roar from the crowd as the ball sailed off the ground with terrific force. And then almost immediately there was another thud as Allen rose in a desperate leap to block the ball with his shoulder. It caromed off at a crazy angle, wobbling in its flight as the mercury within rolled from side to side. Swift, of the Arcturus crew, reached the ball first and sent it sailing at an angle over Tom’s head to bounce thirty feet away. Seeing Astro charge the ball, Tom threw a block on Allen to knock him out of the play. The big Venusian, judging his stride to be a little off, shortened his steps to move in for the kick. But just as he brought his foot forward to make contact, the ball spun away to the left. Astro’s foot continued in a perfect arc over his head, throwing him in a heap on the ground.

  Two thousand voices from the stands roared in one peal of laughter.

  While Astro lay on the ground with the wind knocked out of him, Schohari and Swift converged on the ball. With Astro down and Tom out of position, the Arcturus unit seemed certain of scoring. But again the ball rolled crazily, this time straight to Roger, the last defender. He nudged it between his opponents toward Tom, who, in turn, kicked it obliquely past Allen back to Roger again. Running with the grace and speed of an antelope, the blond cadet met the ball in mid-field, and when it dropped to the ground in front of him, sent it soaring across the goal with one powerful kick!

  As the cadets in the stands sent up a tumultuous cheer for the perfectly executed play, the whistle blew, ending the period and the Polaris unit led, one to nothing.

  Breathing deeply, Astro and Roger flopped down near Tom and stretched full length on the grass.

  “That was a beautiful shot, Roger,” said Tom. “Perfectly timed!”

  “Yeah, hot-shot,” agreed Astro, “I’m glad to see that big head of yours is good for something!”

  “Listen, fellas,” said Roger eagerly, ignoring Astro, “to go into the finals against Richards and the Capella unit, we’ve got to beat the Arcturus crew, right?”

  “Yeah,” agreed Tom, “and it won’t be easy. We just happened to get the breaks.”

  “Then why don’t we put the game on ice?” said Roger. “Freeze the ball! We got ‘em one to nothing, that’s enough to beat them. When the whistle blows and it’s over, we win!”

  Astro looked at Tom, who frowned and replied, “But we’ve still got three periods left, Roger. It isn’t fair to freeze this early in the game. If it was the last minute or so, sure. But not so early. It just isn’t fair.”

  “What do you want to do?” snarled Roger. “Win, or play fair?”

  “Win, of course, but I want to win the right way,” said Tom.

  “How about you, Astro?” asked Roger.

  “I feel the same way that Tom does,” said the big cadet. “We can beat these guys easily—and on the square.”

  “You guys make it sound like I was cheating,” snapped Roger.

  “Well,” said Tom, “it sure isn’t giving the Arcturus guys a break.”

  The whistle blew for them to return to the goal line.

  “Well,” asked Roger, “do we freeze or don’t we?”

  “I don’t want to. But majority always rules in this unit, Roger.” Tom glanced at Astro. “How about it, Astro?”

  “We can beat ‘em fair and square. We play all out!” answered Astro.

  Roger didn’t say anything. He moved to one side and took his position for the dash down field.

  The whistle blew again and the crowd roared as the two teams charged toward the ball. The cadets were eager to see if the Arcturus crew could tie the score or if the crew of the Polaris would increase its lead. But after a few mom
ents of play, their cries of encouragement subsided into rumbles of discontent. In its eagerness to score, the Arcturus unit kept making errors and lost the ball constantly but the crew of the Polaris failed to capitalize. The second period ended with the score unchanged.

  As he slumped to the ground for the rest period, Astro turned on Roger bitterly. “What’s the idea, Manning? You’re dogging it!”

  “You play your game, Astro,” replied Roger calmly, “I’ll play mine.”

  “We’re playing this game as a team, Roger,” chimed in Tom heatedly. “You’re kicking the ball all over the lot!”

  “Yeah,” added Astro. “In every direction except the goal!”

  “I was never clear,” defended Roger. “I didn’t want to lose possession of the ball!”

  “You sure didn’t,” said Tom. “You acted as if it was your best friend and you never wanted to be separated from it!”

  “We said we didn’t want to freeze this game, Roger, and we meant it!” Astro glowered at his unit-mate. “Next period you show us some action! If you don’t want to score, feed it to us and we’ll save you the trouble!”

  But the third period was the same. While Tom and Astro dashed up and down the field, blocking out the members of the Arcturus crew to give Roger a clear shot, he simply nudged the ball back and forth between the side lines, ignoring his teammates’ pleas to drive forward. As the whistle sounded for the end of the period, boos and catcalls from the grandstand filled the air.

  Tom’s face was an angry red as he faced Roger again on the side lines during the rest period.

  “You hear that, Roger?” he growled, nodding his head toward the stands. “That’s what they think of your smart playing!”

  “What do I care?” replied the blond cadet arrogantly. “They’re not playing this game! I am!”

  “And we are too!” Astro’s voice was a low rumble as he came up behind Manning. “If you don’t give us a chance, so help me, I’ll use your head for a ball!”

  “If you’re so interested in scoring, why don’t you go after the ball yourselves then?” said Roger.

  “Because we’re too busy trying to be a team!” snapped Tom. “We’re trying to clear shots for you!”

  “Don’t be so generous,” sneered Roger.

  “I’m warning you, Roger”—Astro glared at the arrogant cadet—“if you don’t straighten out and fly right—”

  McKenny’s whistle from the far side lines suddenly sounded, interrupting the big cadet, and the three boys trooped back out on the field again. Again the air was filled with boos and shouts of derision and Tom’s face flushed with shame.

  This time, when McKenny’s hand flashed downward, Tom streaked for the ball, instead of Schohari, his usual opponent. He measured his stride carefully and reached the ball in perfect kicking position.

  He felt the satisfying thud against his foot, and saw the ball shoot out high in front of him and head for the goal line. It was a beautiful kick. But then, the ball suddenly sank, its flight altered by the action of the mercury. Running down field, Tom saw Swift and Allen meet the ball together. Allen blocked it with his chest and caromed it over to Swift. Swift let the ball drop to the ground, drawing his foot back to kick. But again, the mercury changed the ball’s action, twisting it to one side and Swift’s kick caught it on the side. Instead of the ball going down field, it veered to the left, in the path of Astro. Quickly getting his head under it, he shifted it to Roger, who streaked in and stopped it with his hip. But then, instead of passing ahead to Tom, who by now was down field and in the open, Roger prepared to kick for the goal himself.

  Tom shouted a warning but it was too late. Schohari came rushing in behind him, and at running stride, met the ball squarely with his right foot. It sailed high in the air and over the Polaris goal line just as the whistle blew. The game was tied.

  “That was some play, Manning,” said Astro, when they were lined up waiting for the next period to begin.

  “You asked for it,” snapped Roger, “you were yapping at me to play, and now look what’s happened!”

  “Listen, you loudmouthed punk!” said Astro, advancing toward the smaller cadet, but just then the whistle blew and the three boys ran out onto the field.

  The Arcturus crew swept down the field quickly, heading for the ball and seemingly ignoring the Polaris unit. But Schohari slipped and fell on the grass which gave Tom a clear shot at the ball. He caught it with the side of his boot and passed it toward Roger. But Allen, at full speed, came in and intercepted, sending the ball in a crazy succession of twists, turns and bounces. The crowd came to its feet as all six cadets made desperate attempts to clear the skittering ball with none of them so much as touching it. This was the part of mercuryball that pleased the spectator. Finally, Schohari managed to get a toe on it and he sent it down field, but Astro had moved out to play defense. He stopped the ball on his shoulder and dropped it to the ground. Steadying it there, he waited until Tom was in the clear and kicked it forty yards to the mid-field stripe.

  The crowd came to its feet, sensing this final drive might mean victory for the Polaris crew. The boys of the Arcturus swarmed in—trying to keep Tom from scoring. With a tremendous burst of speed, Tom reached the ball ahead of Schohari, and with the strength of desperation, he slammed his foot against it. The whistle blew ending the game as the ball rose in an arc down the field and fell short of the goal by ten feet. There was a groan from the crowd.

  But suddenly the ball, still reacting to the mercury inside, spun like a top, rolled sideways, and as if it were being blown by a breeze, rolled toward the goal line and stopped six inches inside the white chalk line.

  There was a moment’s pause as the crowd and the players, stunned by the play, grasped what had happened. Then swelling into a roar, there was one word chanted over and over—“Polaris—Polaris—Polaris.…”

  The Polaris unit had reached the finals of the Academy tournament.

  * * * *

  During the intermission Charlie Wolcheck, unit commander of the Capella crew, walked over to the refreshment unit behind the grandstand where Steve Strong, Dr. Dale and Commander Walters were drinking Martian water and eating spaceburgers.

  “Afternoon, Commander,” saluted Wolcheck. “Hello, Joan, Steve. Looks as though your boys on the Polaris are going to meet their match this afternoon. I’ve got to admit they’re good, but with Tony Richards feeding passes to Al Davison and with the blocking of Scott McAvoy—” The young officer broke off with a grin.

  “I don’t know, Charlie,” Commander Walters said with a wink to Dr. Dale. “From the looks of Cadet Astro, if he ever gets his foot on the ball, your Capella unit will have to go after it with a jet boat.”

  “Why, Commander,” replied Wolcheck, laughing good-naturedly, “Tony Richards is one of the finest booters I’ve ever seen. Saw him make a goal from the sixty-yard line from a standstill.”

  Steve Strong waved a Martian water pop bottle at young Wolcheck in a gesture of friendly derision.

  “Did you happen to see the play in the first period?” he boasted. “Manning took a perfect pass from Astro and scored. You’re finished, Wolcheck, you and your Capella unit won’t even come close.”

  “From what I hear and see, Manning seems to be a little sore that he can’t make all the scores himself,” grinned Wolcheck slyly. “He wants to be the whole show!”

  Strong reddened and turned to put the empty bottle on the counter, using it as an excuse to hide his feelings from the commander and Joan. So Wolcheck had observed Manning’s attitude and play on the field too.

  Before Strong could reply, a bugle sounded from the field and the group of Solar Guard officers returned to their seats for the final game of the tournament between the Capella and the Polaris units.

  Out on the field Mike made his usual speech about playing fair and gave the cadets the routine instructions of the game, reminding them that they were spacemen first, unit-members second, and individuals third and last. The six bo
ys shook hands and jogged down the field to take up their positions.

  “How about concentrating on the passes Richards is going to feed to Davison,” Tom asked his unit-mates. “Never mind blocking out Richards and McAvoy.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Astro, “play for the ball. Sounds good to me.”

  “How about it, Roger?” asked Tom.

  “Just play the game,” said Roger. And then added sarcastically, “And don’t forget to give them every chance to score. Let’s play fair and square, the way we did with the Arcturus unit.”

  “If you feel that way, Manning,” answered Astro coldly, “you can quit right now! We’ll handle the Capella guys ourselves!”

  Before Roger could answer, McKenny blew the ready whistle and the three boys lined up along the white chalk line preparing for the dash to the waiting ball.

  The cadets in the stands were hushed. McKenny’s hand swept up and then quickly down as he blew the whistle. The crowd came to its feet, roaring, as Tom, five steps from his own goal line, tripped and fell headlong to the grass, putting him out of the first play. Astro and Roger charged down the field, with Astro reaching the ball first. He managed a good kick, but Richards, three feet away, took the ball squarely on his chest. The mercuryball fell to the ground, spun in a dizzy circle and with a gentle tap by Richards, rolled to Davison, who took it in stride and sent it soaring for a forty-five-yard goal.

  The Capella unit had drawn first blood.

  “Well, hot-shot,” snarled Roger back on the starting line, “what happened to the big pass-stealing idea?”

  “I tripped, Manning,” said Tom through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah! Tripped!” sneered Roger.

  The whistle blew for the next goal.

  Tom, with an amazing burst of speed, swept down the field, broke stride to bring him in perfect line with the ball and with a kick that seemed almost lazy, sent the ball from a dead standstill, fifty yards over the Capella goal before any of the remaining players were within five feet of it, and the score was tied.