“Very well, Corbett, proceed,” said Connel.
Tom called into the intercom, “Stand by for blast-off!” He then opened the circuit to the teleceiver screen overhead and spoke to the spaceport control tower.
“Polaris to spaceport control. Request permission to blast off. Request orbit.”
“Spaceport traffic to Polaris. Your orbit has been cleared 089—repeat 089—blast off in two minutes.…”
“Orbit 089—blast off minus one fifty-nine fifty-eight.”
“You read me clear, Polaris…”
Tom clicked off the switch and turned to the intercom. “Control deck to radar bridge. Do we have a clear tangent forward and up?”
“All clear forward and up, Tom,” replied Roger.
“Control deck to power deck. Energize the cooling pumps!”
“Cooling pumps in operation,” answered Astro briskly.
The giant ship began to shudder as the mighty pumps on the power deck started their slow, whining build-up. Tom sat in front of the control panel, strapped himself into the acceleration chair, and began checking the dials and gauges. Satisfied everything was in order, he fastened his eyes to the sweeping red second hand on the solar clock. The teleceiver screen brought a sharp picture of the surrounding base of the spaceship, and he saw that it was all clear. The second hand reached the ten-second mark.
“Stand by to raise ship!” bawled Tom into the intercom. The red hand moved steadily, surely, to the zero at the top of the clock face. Tom reached for the master switch.
“Blast off minus five—four—three—two—one—zero!”
Tom threw the switch.
Slowly the giant ship raised itself from the ground. Then faster and faster, pushing the four spacemen deep into their acceleration cushions, it hurtled spaceward.
In a few seconds the Polaris was gravity-free. Once again, Earthmen had started another journey to the stars.
CHAPTER 4
“Stand by to reduce speed three-quarters!” roared Major Connel.
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Tom, and began the necessary adjustments on the control panel. He spoke into the intercom. “Control deck to power deck. Stand by to reduce thrust on main drive rockets by three-quarters. We’re coming onto the space station, Astro.”
“Power deck, aye,” acknowledged Astro.
Drifting in a steady orbit around its mother planet, the Venus space station loomed ahead of the Polaris like a huge metal ball set against a backdrop of cold, black space. It was studded with gaping holes, air locks which served as landing ports for spaceships. Inside the station was a compact city. Living quarters, communications rooms, repair shops, weather observations, meteor information, everything to serve the great fleet of Solar Guard and merchant spaceships plying the space lanes between Earth, Mars, Venus, and Titan.
“I’m getting the identification request from the station, sir. Shall I answer her?” asked Roger over the intercom.
“Of course, you space-brained idiot, and make it fast!” exploded Connel. “What do you want to do? Get us blasted out of space?”
“Yes, sir!” replied Roger. “Right away, sir!”
Tom kept his eyes on the teleceiver screen above his head. The image of the space station loomed large and clear.
“Approaching a little too fast, I think, sir,” volunteered Tom. “Shall I make the adjustment?”
“What’s the range?” asked Connel.
Tom named a figure.
“Ummmmh,” mused Connel. He glanced quickly over the dials and then nodded in assent. Tom turned once more to the intercom. “Control deck to power deck,” he called. “Stand by for maneuvering, Astro, and reduce your main drive thrust to minimum space speed.”
“Space station traffic control to rocket cruiser Polaris. Come in, Polaris. This is traffic control on space station to Polaris,” the audio teleceiver crackled.
“Rocket cruiser Polaris to space station and traffic control. Request touchdown permission and landing-port number,” replied Tom.
“Permission to touch down granted, Polaris. You are to line up on approach to landing-port seven—repeat—seven. Am now sending out guiding radar beam. Can you read beam?”
Tom turned to the intercom. “Have you got the station’s guiding beam, Roger?”
“All lined up, Tom,” replied Roger from the radar bridge. “Get that Venusian on the power deck to give me a three-second shot on the starboard rocket, if he can find the right handles!”
“I heard that, Manning!” roared Astro’s voice on the intercom. “Another crack like that and I’ll make you get out and push this baby around!”
“You execute that order and do it blasted quick!” Major Connel’s voice exploded over the intercom. “And watch that loose talk on the ship’s intercom. From now on, all directions and orders will be given and received in a crisp, clear manner without unnecessary familiarity!”
Connel didn’t expect them to acknowledge his order. The cadets had heard him and that was enough. He knew it was enough. In the short time it had taken them to traverse the immense gulf of space between the Academy and the station Connel had handed out demerits by fives and tens! Each of the cadets was now tagged with enough black marks to spend two months in the galley working them off!
Now, working together like the smooth team of junior spacemen they were, Tom, Roger, and Astro maneuvered the great rocket ship toward the gaping hole of the air lock in the side of the white ball-like satellite.
“Drop your bow one half degree, Polaris, you’re up too high,” warned the station control.
“A short burst on the upper trim rocket, Astro,” called Tom.
The great ship bucked slightly under the force of sudden thrust, and then its nose dropped the required half degree.
“Cut all thrust and brake your speed to dead ship, Polaris,” ordered traffic control.
Again Tom relayed the order to Astro, and a moment later the great ship hung silently in the airless void of space, a scant half mile from the station.
Through the teleceiver Tom could see the jet boats darting out from the station carrying the magnetic cables. In a moment the lines were attached to the steel skin of the ship, and gradually the lines tightened, pulling the mighty spaceship into the waiting port. Once inside, the outer air lock was closed and the Polaris was slung in the powerful magnetic cradles that held her in a rigid position. Elsewhere on the satellite, quick calculations were made for the additional weight, and the station was counterbalanced to assure an even orbit around Venus.
Tom flicked the many switches off on the great board, glanced at the time of arrival on the solar clock, and reported to Major Connel.
“Touchdown at one-nine-four-nine, sir.”
“Very well, Corbett,” answered Connel. Then he added grudgingly, “That was as fine a job of control-deck operations as I’ve seen. Keep up the good work, spaceman.”
Tom gulped. The unexpected compliment caught him off guard. And he was even more pleased that for the first time Connel had referred to him as spaceman!
“I’ll be needed at the space station commander’s quarters for a while, Corbett,” said Connel. “Meanwhile, you and Manning and Astro acquaint yourselves with the station. Report to me back aboard the ship in exactly two hours. Dismissed.”
Tom saluted, and Connel disappeared toward the exit port.
“Well, spaceman,” Roger drawled casually from behind, “it looks like you’ve got yourself in solid with the old man!”
Tom smiled. “With a guy like that, Roger, you’re never in solid. Maybe I did get a pat on the back, but you didn’t hear him cancel any of those demerits he gave me for not signing the logbook after that last watch, did you?”
“Let’s get some chow,” growled Astro, who came hustling through the hatch. “I’m half starved. By the craters of Luna, how many times can you change course in five minutes?”
Astro referred to the countless times Tom had had to call for fraction-degree course changes in their
approach to the gaping entrance port.
Tom laughed. “With Connel on the bridge, you’re lucky I didn’t give you twice as many,” he replied. “Can you imagine what would have happened if we had missed and hit the station?”
“Brrrrrr!” shuddered Roger. “I hate to think about it. Come on. Let’s rustle up some grub for the Venusian. I could use some myself.”
The three boys quickly changed to their dress blue cadet uniforms and left the ship. A moment later they were being whisked up an electric elevator to the main—or “street”—level. The door opened, and they stepped out into a large circular area about the size of a city block in the rear of the station. The area had been broken into smaller sections. One side of the “street” was devoted to shops, a small stereo house which was playing the latest Liddy Tamal hit, “Children of Space” (a sensational drama about the lives of men in the future), restaurants, and even a curio shop. The Venus space station handled ninety per cent of the traffic into and out of Venusport. It was a refueling stop for the jet liners and space freighters bound for the outer planets, and for those returning to Earth. Some ships went directly to Venusport for heavy overhaul or supplies, but the station was established primarily for quick turn arounds. Several ex-enlisted spacemen who had been injured or retired were given special permission to open shops for the convenience of the passengers and crews of the ships and the staff of the station. In twenty years the station had become a place where summer tourists from Earth and winter tourists from Titan made a point of stopping. The first of its kind in the universe, it was as near a perfect place to live as could be built by man.
Tom, Roger, and Astro strolled down the short street, pushing through a crowd of tourists admiring the shops. Finally they found a restaurant that specialized in Venusian dishes.
“Now you two spindly Earthmen are going to have the best meal of your lives! Broiled dinosaur on real Venusian black bread!”
“D-dinosaur!” stuttered Tom in amazement. “Why—why—that’s a prehistoric monster!”
“Yeah, Astro,” agreed Roger. “What are you trying to hand us?”
Astro laughed. “You’ll see, fellows,” he replied. “I used to go hunting for them when I was a kid. Brought the best price of any wild game. Fifty credits for babies under three hundred pounds. Over that, you can’t eat ‘em. Too tough!”
Tom and Roger looked at each other, eyes bulging.
“Ah, come on, Tom,” drawled Roger. “He’s just trying to pull our leg.”
Without a word, Astro grabbed them by the arms and rushed them into the restaurant. They were no sooner seated when a recorded voice announced the menu over a small loud-speaker on the table. Astro promptly ordered dinosaur, and to his unit-mates’ amazement, the voice politely inquired:
“Would the spacemen prefer to have it broiled à la Venusian black bread, baked, or raw?”
A sharp look from Roger and Tom, and Astro ordered it broiled.
One hour and fifteen minutes later the three members of the Polaris unit staggered out of the restaurant.
“By the rings of Saturn,” declared Tom, “that wasn’t only the most I ever ate—it was the best!”
Roger nodded in silent agreement, leaning against the plastic window in front of the restaurant.
“You see,” Astro beamed, “maybe you guys will listen to me from now on!”
“Boy, I can’t wait to see Mom’s face when I tell her that her chicken and dumplings have taken second place to broiled monster!”
“By the jumping blazes of the stars!” yelled Roger suddenly. “Look at the time! We’re ten minutes late!”
“Ohhhhh,” moaned Tom. “I knew it was too good to be true!”
“Step on it!” said Astro. “Maybe he won’t notice.”
“Some chance,” groaned Roger, running after Tom and Astro. “That old rocket head wouldn’t miss anything!”
The three boys raced back to the electric elevator and were silently whisked to the air-lock level. They hurried aboard the Polaris and into the control room. Major Connel was seated in a chair near the chart screen, studying some papers. The cadets drew themselves to attention.
“Unit reporting for duty, sir,” Tom quavered.
Connel spun around in the swivel chair, glanced at the clock, put the papers to one side, and slowly advanced toward the cadets.
“Thirteen and a half minutes late!” he said, dropping his voice to a biting growl. “I’ll give you five seconds to think up a good excuse. Every man is entitled to an excuse. Some have good ones, some have truthful ones, and some have excuses that sound as though they made them up in five seconds!”
He eyed the cadets speculatively. “Well?” he demanded.
“I’m afraid we were carried away by our enthusiasm for a meal Astro introduced us to, sir,” said Tom honestly.
“All right,” snapped Connel, “then here’s something else to carry you all away!” He paused and rocked on the balls of his feet. “I had planned to give you three liberty of the station while here, whenever you weren’t working on the new transmitter. But since you have shown yourselves to be carried away so easily, I don’t think I can depend on your completing your regular duties. Therefore, I suggest that each of you report to the officer in charge of your respective departments and learn the operation and function of the station while we’re here. This work will be in addition to your assigned duties on the new transmitter operation!”
The three cadets gulped but were silent.
“Not only that,” Connel’s voice had risen to an angry bark, “but you will be logged a demerit apiece for each minute you reported late. Thirteen and a half minutes, thirteen and a half demerits!”
The gold and black of the Solar Guard uniform never looked more ominous as the three cadets watched the stern spaceman turn and stomp out the exit port.
Alone, their liberty taken away from them before they even knew they had it, the boys sat around on the control deck of the silent ship and listened to the distant throb of a pump, rising and falling, pumping free air throughout the station.
“Well,” sighed Tom, “I always did want to know how a space station worked. Now I guess I’ll learn firsthand.”
“Me, too,” said Astro. He propped his big feet up on a delicate instrument panel of the control board.
“Me, too!” sneered Roger, his voice filled with a bitterness that surprised Tom and Astro. “But I didn’t think I would find out like this! How in the universe has that—that tyrant managed to stay alive this long!”
CHAPTER 5
“The space station’s biggest headache,” said Terry Scott, a young Solar Guard officer assigned the job of showing the Polaris crew around, “is to maintain perfect balance at all times.”
“How do you achieve that, sir?” asked Tom.
“We create our own gravity by means of a giant gyroscope in the heart of the station. When more weight is taken aboard, or weight leaves the station, we have to adjust the gyro’s speed.”
They entered the power deck of the great ball-like satellite. Astro’s eyes glowed with pleasure as he glanced approvingly from one massive machine to another. The fuel tanks were made of thin durable aluminite; a huge cylinder, covered with heat-resistant paint, was the air conditioner; power came from a bank of atomic dynamos and generators; while those massive pumps kept the station’s artificial air and water supply circulating.
Dials, gauges, meters, were arrayed in seemingly endless rows—but each one of them actually played its part in keeping the station in balance.
Astro’s face was one big, delighted grin.
“Well,” said Roger with a sly wink at Tom, “you can’t tell me that Connel has made our Venusian unhappy. Even if he had given us liberty, I’ll bet Astro would have spent it down here with the grease monkeys!”
Astro didn’t rise to the bait. His attention was riveted on a huge dynamo, which he watched with appreciative eyes. But then Terry Scott introduced the Polaris unit to an older Solar Guard office
r.
“Cadets, meet Captain Jenledge,” said Scott. “And, sir, this is Cadet Astro. Major Connel would like him to work with you while he’s here.”
“Glad to know you, boys,” said Jenledge, “and particularly you, Cadet Astro. I’ve heard about your handiness with the thrust buckets on the cruisers. What do you think of our layout?”
The officer turned and waved his hand to indicate the power-deck equipment.
“This is just about the finest—the most terrif—”
The officer smiled at Astro’s inability to describe his feelings. Jenledge was proud of his power deck, proud of the whole establishment, for that matter. He had conceived it, had drawn the plans, and had constructed this space station.
Throughout the solar system it was considered his baby. And when he had asked for permission to remain on as senior power-deck chief, the Solar Alliance had jumped at the chance to keep such a good man on the job. The station had become a sort of postgraduate course for power-deck cadets and junior Solar Guard officers.
Astro beamed. So, the great Jenledge had actually heard of him—of humble Cadet Astro. He could hardly restrain himself from ripping off his blue uniform and going right to work on a near-by machine that had been torn apart for repairs. Finally he managed to gasp, “I think it’s great, sir—just wonderful!”
“Very well, Cadet Astro,” said the officer. “There’s a pair of coveralls in my locker. You can start right to work.” He paused and his eyes twinkled. “If you want to, that is!”
“Want to!” roared Astro, and was off to the locker room.
Jenledge turned to Scott. “Leave him with me, Scotty. I don’t think Cadet Astro’s going to care much about the rest of the station!”
Scott smiled, saluted, and walked away. Tom and Roger came to attention, saluted, and followed the young officer off the power deck.
“Astro’s probably happier now than he’ll ever be in his life, Tom,” whispered Roger.
“Yeah,” agreed Tom. “Did you see the way his eyes lit up when we walked in there? Like a kid with a brand-new toy!”
The Tom Corbett Space Cadet Megapack: 10 Classic Young Adult Sci-Fi Novels Page 22
