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

by Norton, Andre

  There wasn’t much talk. There wasn’t much to talk about. About nine o’clock the boys stopped and opened one of the containers of food and ate a quick meal of sandwiches. This was followed by a carefully measured ounce of water, and fifteen minutes later they resumed their march across the New Sahara.

  About ten o’clock, Deimos, one of the small twin moons of Mars, swung up overhead, washing the desert with a pale cold light. By morning, when the cherry-red sun broke the line of the horizon, Tom estimated that they had walked about twenty miles.

  “Think we ought to camp here?” asked Astro.

  “If you can show me a better spot,” said Roger with a laugh, “I’ll be happy to use it!” He swung his arm in a wide circle, indicating a wasteland of sand that spread as far as the eyes could see.

  “I could go for another hour or so,” said Astro, “before it gets too hot.”

  “And wait for the heat to reach the top of the thermometer? Uh-huh, not me,” said Roger. “I’ll take as much sleep as I can get now—while it’s still a little cool.”

  “Roger’s right,” said Tom. “We’d better take it easy now. We won’t be able to get much sleep after noon.”

  “What do we do from noon until evening?” asked Astro.

  “Aside from just sitting under this hunk of space cloth, I guess we’ll come as close to being roasted alive as a human can get.”

  “You want to eat now?” asked Astro.

  Tom and Roger laughed. “I’m not hungry, but you go ahead,” said Tom. “I know that appetite of yours won’t wait.”

  “I’m not too hungry either,” said Roger. “Go ahead, you clobber-headed juice jockey.”

  Astro grinned sheepishly, and opening one of the containers of food, quickly wolfed down a breakfast of smoked Venusian fatfish.

  Tom and Roger began spreading the space cloth on the sand that was already hot to the touch. Anchoring the four corners in the sand with the emergency lights and one of Tom’s boots, they propped up the center with the food packs, one on top of the other. A crude tent was the result and both boys crawled in under, sprawling on the sand. Astro finished eating, lay down beside his two unit-mates, and in a moment the three cadets were sound asleep.

  The sun climbed steadily over the desert while the Polaris unit slept. With each hour, the heat of the desert rose, climbing past the hundred mark, reaching one hundred and twenty, then one hundred and thirty-five degrees.

  Tom woke up with a start. He felt as if he were inside a blazing furnace. He rolled over and saw Astro and Roger still asleep, sweat pouring off them in small rivulets. He started to wake them, but decided against it and just lay still under the thin sheet of space cloth that protected him from the sun. As light as the fabric square was, weighing no more than a pound, under the intense heat of the sun it felt like a woolen blanket where it touched him. Astro rolled over and opened his eyes.

  “What time is it, Tom?”

  “Must be about noon. How do you feel?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I had a dream.” The big cadet rubbed his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I dreamed I was being shoved into an oven—like Hansel and Gretel in that old fairy tale.”

  “Personally,” mumbled Roger, without opening his eyes, “I’ll take Hansel and Gretel. They might be a little more tender.”

  “I could do with a drink,” said Astro, looking at Tom.

  Tom hesitated. He felt that as hot as it was, it would get still hotter and there had to be strict control of the remainder of the water.

  “Try to hold out a little longer, Astro,” said Tom. “This heat hasn’t really begun yet. You could drink the whole thing and still want more.”

  “That’s right, Astro,” said Roger, sitting up. “Best thing to do is just wet your tongue and lips a little. Drinking won’t do much good now.”

  “O.K. by me,” said Astro. “Well, what do we do now?”

  “We sit here and we wait,” answered Tom. He sat up and held the space cloth up on his side.

  “You get in the middle, Astro,” suggested Roger. “Your head is up higher than mine and Tom’s. You can be the tent pole under this big top.”

  Astro grunted and changed places with the smaller cadet.

  “Think there might be a breeze if we opened up one side of this thing?” asked Roger.

  “If there was a breeze,” answered Tom, “it’d be so hot, it’d be worse than what we’ve got inside.”

  “It sure is going to be a hot day,” said Astro softly.

  The thin fabric of the space cloth was enough to protect them from the direct rays of the sun, but offered very little protection against the heat. Soon the inside of the tent was boiling under the relentless sun.

  They sat far apart, their knees pulled up, heads bowed. Once when the heat seemed unbearable, Tom opened one side of the cloth in a desperate hope that it might be a little cooler outside. A blast of hot air entered the makeshift tent and he quickly closed the opening.

  About three o’clock Roger suddenly slipped backward and lay sprawled on the sand.

  Tom opened one of the containers of water and dipped his shirttail into it. Astro watched him moisten Roger’s lips and wipe his temples. In a few moments the cadet stirred and opened his eyes.

  “I—I—don’t know what happened,” he said slowly. “Everything started swimming and then went black.”

  “You fainted,” said Tom simply.

  “What time is it?” asked Astro.

  “Sun should be dropping soon now, in another couple of hours.”

  They were silent again. The sun continued its journey across the sky and at last began to slip behind the horizon. When the last red rays stretched across the sandy desert, the three cadets folded back the space-cloth covering and stood up. A soft evening breeze sprang up, refreshing them a little, and though none of them was hungry, each boy ate a light meal.

  Tom opened the container of water again and measured out about an ounce apiece.

  “Moisten your tongue, and sip it slowly,” ordered Tom.

  Roger and Astro took their share of the water and dipped fingers in it, wiping their lips and eyelids. They continued to do this until finally, no longer able to resist, they took the precious water and swished it around in their mouths before swallowing it.

  They folded the space cloth, shouldered their packs, and after Tom had checked the compass, started their long march toward their plotted destination.

  They had survived their first twenty-four hours in the barren wastes of the New Sahara, with each boy acutely aware that there was at least a week more of the same in front of them. The sky blackened, and soon after Deimos rose and started climbing across the dark sky.

  CHAPTER 21

  “How much water left?” asked Astro thickly.

  “Enough for one more drink apiece,” Tom replied.

  “And then what happens?” mumbled Roger through his cracked lips.

  “You know what will happen, Roger—you know and I know and Tom knows,” muttered Astro grimly.

  For eight days they had been struggling across the blistering shifting sands, walking by night, sweltering under the thin space cloth during the day. Their tongues were swollen. Scraggly beards covered their chins and jaws. Roger’s lips were cracked. The back of Tom’s neck had suffered ten minutes of direct sun and turned into a large swollen blister. Only Astro appeared to be bearing up under the ordeal. There was no sign of their being close to the canal.

  “Wanta try marching during the day?” asked Astro. They had broken camp on the evening of the eighth day and were preparing to move on into the never-changing desert.

  “If we don’t hit the canal sometime during the night, there might be a chance it’s close enough to reach in a couple of hours,” replied Tom. “Either that, or we’ve miscalculated altogether.”

  “How about you, Roger?” asked Astro.

  “Whatever you guys decide, I’ll be right in back of you.” Roger had grown steadily weaker during the last
three days and found it difficult to sleep during the hours of rest.

  “Then we’ll keep marching tomorrow,” said Astro.

  “Let’s move out,” said Tom. Roger and Astro shouldered the remaining slender food packs, with Tom carrying the water and space cloth, and they started out into the rapidly darkening desert.

  Once again, as on the previous eight nights, the little moon, Deimos, swung across the sky, casting dim shadows ahead of the three marching boys. Tom found it necessary to look at the compass more often. He couldn’t trust his sense of direction as much as he had earlier. Once, he had gone for two hours in a direction that was fifty degrees off course. The rest stops also were more frequent now, with each boy throwing his pack to the ground and lying flat on his back, to enjoy the cool breeze that never failed to soothe their scorched faces.

  When the sun rose out of the desert on the morning of the ninth day, they stopped, ate a light breakfast of preserved figs, divided the juice evenly among them, and, ripping the space cloth into three sections, wrapped it around themselves like Arabs and continued to walk.

  By noon, with the sun directly overhead, they were staggering. At two-thirty the sun and the heat were so overpowering that they stopped involuntarily and tried to sit on the hot sand only to find that they couldn’t and so they stumbled on.

  Neither Roger nor Astro asked for water. Finally Tom stopped and faced his two unit-mates wobbling on unsteady legs.

  “I’ve gone as far as I can without water. I—I don’t think I can go another step. So come on, we’ll finish what we’ve got.”

  Astro and Roger nodded in quiet agreement. They watched with dull eyes as Tom carefully opened the plastic container of water. He gave each a cup and slowly, cautiously, measured out the remaining water into three equal parts. He held the container up for a full minute allowing the last drop to run out before tossing the empty bottle to one side.

  “Here goes,” said Tom. He wet his lips, placed a wet finger on his temples and sipped the liquid slowly, allowing it to trickle down his parched throat.

  Roger and Astro did the same. After he had wet his lips, Astro took the full amount in his mouth and washed it around, before swallowing it. Roger brought the cup up slowly to his mouth with trembling hands, tipped it shakily, and then before Astro or Tom could catch him, fell to the ground. The precious water spilled into the sand.

  Tom and Astro watched dumfounded as the dry sand sucked away the water until nothing remained but a damp spot six inches wide.

  “I guess—” began Tom, “I guess that about does it!”

  “We’ll have to carry him,” said Astro simply.

  Tom looked up into the eyes of his unit-mate. There he saw a determination that would not be defeated. He nodded his head and stooped over to grapple with Roger’s legs. He got one leg under each arm and then tried to straighten up. He fell to the sand and rolled to one side. Astro watched him get up slowly, wearily, his space-cloth covering remaining on the ground, and then, with gritted teeth, try once more to pick Roger’s legs up.

  Astro put out his hand and touched Tom on the shoulder. His voice was low, hardly above a whisper. “You lead the way, Tom. I’ll carry him.”

  “” “You lead the way, Tom. I’ll carry him.”

  Tom looked up at the big Venusian. Their eyes locked for a moment and then he nodded his head and turned away. He pulled out the pocket compass and through blurred vision read the course beneath its wavering needle. He waved an arm in a direction to the right of them and staggered off.

  Astro stooped down, picked Roger up in his arms and slowly got him across his shoulders. Then steadying himself, he walked after Tom.

  Suddenly a blast of wind, hot as fire, swept across the sandy plains, whipping the sand up and around the two walking figures, biting into exposed hands and faces. Tom tried to adjust his goggles when the sand began to penetrate around the edges but his fingers shook and he dropped them. In a flash, the sand drove into his eyes, blinding him.

  “I can’t see, Astro,” said Tom in a hoarse whisper when Astro staggered up. “You’ll have to guide.”

  Astro took the compass out of Tom’s hand and then placed his unit-mate’s hand on his back. Tom gripped the loose folds of the space cloth and uniform beneath and struggled blindly after the big cadet.

  The hot sun bore down. The wind kept blowing and Astro, with Roger slung across his back like a sack of potatoes and Tom clinging blindly to his uniform, walked steadily on.

  He felt each step would be his last, but with each step he told himself through gritted teeth that he could do ten more—and then ten more—ten more.

  He walked, he staggered, and once he fell to the ground, Tom slumping behind him and Roger being tossed limply to the scorching sand. Slowly Astro recovered, helped Tom to his feet, then with the last of his great strength, picked up Roger again. This time, he was unable to get him to his shoulder so he carried him like a baby in his arms.

  At last the sun began to drop in the red sky. Astro felt Roger’s limp body slipping from his grip. By now, Tom had lost all but the very last ounce of his strength and was simply being pulled along.

  “Tom—” gasped Astro with great effort, “I’m going to count to a thousand and then—I’m going to stop.”

  Tom didn’t answer.

  Astro began to count. “One—two—three—four—five—six—” He tried to make each number become a step forward. He closed his eyes. It wasn’t important which way he went. It was only important that he walk those thousand steps, “five hundred eleven—five hundred twelve—five hundred thirteen—”

  Involuntarily he opened his eyes when he felt himself climbing up a small rise in the sand. He opened his eyes and ten feet away was the flat blue surface of the canal they had been searching for.

  “You can let go now, Tom,” said Astro in a voice hardly above a whisper. “We made it. We’re on the bank of the canal.”

  * * * *

  “Hey, Roger,” yelled Astro from the middle of the canal, “ever see a guy make like a submarine?”

  Tom and Roger sat on the top of the low bank of the canal drying off from a swim, while Astro still splashed around luxuriating in the cool water.

  “Go on,” yelled Roger, “let’s see you drown yourself!”

  “Not me, hot-shot,” yelled Astro. “After that walk, all I’d have to do is open my mouth and start drinking.”

  Finally tiring of his sport, the big Venusian pulled himself up onto the bank of the canal and quickly dressed. Pulling on his space boots, he turned to Tom and Roger, who were breaking out the last two containers of food.

  “You know, Astro,” said Roger quietly, “I’ll never be able to repay you for carrying me.”

  Tom was quiet for a moment, and then added, “Same here, Astro.”

  Astro grinned from ear to ear. “Answer me this one question, both of you. Would you have done it for me?”

  The two boys nodded.

  “Then you paid me. As long as I know I’m backed up by two guys like you, then I’m paid. Carrying you, Roger, was just something I could do for you at that particular time. One of these days, when we get out of this oven, there’ll come a time when you or Tom will do something for me—and that’s the way it should be.”

  “Thanks, Astro,” said Roger. He reached over and put his hand on top of Astro’s, and then Tom placed his hand on top of theirs. The three boys were quiet for a moment. There was an understanding in each of them that they had accomplished more than just survival in a desert. They had learned to respect each other. They were a unit at last.

  “What do we do next?” asked Roger.

  “Start walking that way,” said Tom, pointing to his left along the bank of the canal that stretched off in a straight line to the very horizon. “If we’re lucky, we might be able to find something to use as a raft and then we can ride.”

  “Think there are any fish in this canal?” asked Astro, gazing out over the cool blue water.

  “Dou
bt it. At least I’ve never heard of there being any,” replied Tom.

  “Well,” said Roger, standing up, “you can go a lot farther without food than you can without water. And we still have that big container of ham left.”

  “Yeah, as soon as it gets hot, we just swim instead of walk,” said Astro. “And, believe me, there’s going to be a lot of swimming done!”

  “Think we might strike anything down that way,” asked Roger. He looked down the canal in the direction Tom had indicated.

  “That’s the direction of the nearest atmosphere booster station. At least that was the way it looked on the chart. All of them were built near the canals.”

  “How far away do you think it is?” asked Astro.

  “Must be at least three hundred miles.”

  “Let’s start moving,” said Roger, “and hope we can find something that’ll float us on the canal.”

  Single file, wearing the space cloths once more as protection against the sun, they walked along the bank of the canal. When the heat became unbearable, they dipped the squares of space cloths into the water and wrapped themselves in them. When they began to dry out, they would repeat the process. At noon, when the sun dried the fabric nearly as fast as they could wet it, they stopped and slipped over the edge of the bank into the cool water. Covering their heads with the cloths they remained partly submerged until the late afternoon. When the sun had lost some of its power, again they climbed out and continued walking.

  Marching late into the night, they made camp beside the canal, finished the last container of food, and, for the first time since leaving the ship, slept during the night. By the time Deimos had risen in the sky, they were sound asleep.

  CHAPTER 22

  “Eeeeeeoooooooow!” Astro’s bull-like roar shattered the silence of the desert. “There—up ahead, Tom—Roger—a building!”

  Tom and Roger stopped and strained their eyes in the bright sunshine.

  “I think you’re right,” said Tom at last. “But I doubt if anyone’s there. Looks like an abandoned mining shack to me.”

  “Who wants to stand here and debate the question?” asked Roger, and started off down the side of the canal at a lope, with Astro and Tom right behind him.