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.
“I was checking the range and setting up to blast the liner in case they try anything funny,” explained Tom. “I don’t trust anyone on that range finder but me!”
Coxine chuckled. “Good work, Kid. I like a man that thinks ahead. Maybe I made the wrong man gunnery chief.” He climbed into the jet boat. “All right, take the controls, Kid. Shelly and Martin, get in the stern.” The men climbed in and Tom slid under the controls and waited for the order to blast off.
Wallace and his crew were on the opposite side of the ship, so Tom had no fear of being recognized until they were all on the passenger ship. At his side, Coxine spoke to Wallace in the other jet boat over the audioceiver.
“We’ll split up. I’ll handle the control deck and you go aft to the supply lockers. Dump everything out in space and we can pick it up later. Search the passengers, but no rough stuff. The first man that puts his hands on anyone will never know what hit him!”
Tom listened to the pirate captain’s orders and was forced to give the man credit for his tight control over his murderous crew. However rebellious he might be against the Solar Guard, and whatever it was that made the man become the system’s most notorious criminal, his orders spoke for themselves.
“All right, Kid,” roared Coxine, “blast off!”
Tom pressed the control pedal at his foot and the small ship shot out into the black void of space. Ahead of them, thousands of yards away, he could see the gleaming passenger ship.
In a few moments the two jet boats were braking their jets and drifting to a stop inside the catapult deck of the luxurious liner.
Almost before Tom had stopped the small craft, Coxine was out of the boat waving his paralo-ray pistol
s at a cluster of frightened merchant spacemen.
“Back inside!” he snarled. “Kid! Shelly! Cover me! We’re going to the control deck. Martin, you stay here with the jet boat.”
Coxine marched straight through the ship, head up, eyes straight ahead, while behind him, Tom and Shelly swept the luxurious lounges with their ray rifles, ready to fire on any who dared resist. They marched past the frightened passengers, climbed a flight of carpeted stairs to the next deck, and entered the control room.
The liner’s captain, a tall, thin man with graying hair, stood waiting beside the control panel, his eyes flashing angrily. A half-dozen junior officers stood stiffly in back of him.
Coxine stepped up to the elderly officer and laughed good-naturedly. “No one will be hurt, skipper. I just want a few things for my men”—he paused and glanced at the ship’s vault—“and whatever you have in there!”
“I’ll live to see the day when you’re caught and sent to the prison asteroid for this,” snorted the captain.
“Don’t make me laugh, skipper,” said Coxine lightly. “The Solar Guard will have to build a new one for me. Don’t think there’s much left of the old one!”
“Then it was you! You’re responsible for the attack on the asteroid!”
Coxine just smiled and turned to Tom and Shelly. “Watch these crawlers closely, now. I’m going to open the vault.”
Tom stared at the ship’s officers, hoping to catch the eye of one of them, but they were all watching Coxine.
The pirate captain pulled a thin rod about two feet long, with a switch on one end, from his jacket. He walked to the solid titanium door of the vault and inserted the rod into a small hole, pressing the switch at the end of the rod carefully several times. He stepped back and inserted it in another hole in the face of the door and repeated the procedure. Putting the key back in his jacket he grabbed the handle of the massive door. It swung open at his touch. The captain of the liner and officers gasped in amazement.
Working quickly, Coxine crammed the thick bundles of credit notes and passenger’s valuables into a bag. At last he straightened up, and facing the unbelieving officer again, he tossed them a mocking salute. He nodded to Tom and Shelly and walked out of the control room without another word.
Shelly and Tom quickly followed the giant spaceman back to the jet-boat deck, where Wallace was just returning from his own operations. Wallace made a circle out of his fingers to Coxine and the giant pirate nodded.
“Let’s get out of here!” he ordered.
“Aren’t you afraid they’ll try to stop you, skipper?” asked Tom.
Coxine laughed. “Just let them try. I never met a man yet that had the nerve to pull the trigger of a paralo-ray gun while my back was turned.”
Tom gulped and wondered if he would have the nerve to fire on the spaceman. He thought about it a moment and decided that he would take any chance that came along, if he could outwit the criminal. When the time came, he would risk his life to stop Coxine!
CHAPTER 14
“All right, line up, you space crawlers!” bawled Coxine. “When I call your name step up to get your share of the haul!”
The pirate captain was seated at the head of a long mess table, an open ledger in front of him. There were stacks of crisp new credit notes at his elbow. He took out his paralo-ray pistols and placed them within easy reach. On either side of him, Wallace and Simms sat, staring at the money with greedy eyes.
Coxine looked at the first name on the ledger.
“Joe Brooks!” he called. “One thousand credits for spotting the liner!”
Brooks grinned and amid cheers walked to the table. Coxine handed him a small stack of notes carelessly and turned back to the ledger.
“Gil Attardi!” he roared. “One thousand credits for working on the boarding crew.”
Attardi, a sly, scar-faced man, stepped forward to accept his share. He carried a long, thin knife with an edge so deadly keen that he could and often did shave with it.
Coxine continued his roll call. “Sam Bates! Five hundred credits. Straight share.”
Bates stepped forward and glared at Coxine.
“How come I only get five hundred and the others get a thousand?” he snarled. “It ain’t my fault I’m stuck on the power deck while you grab all the glory jobs!”
The laughing, excited crowd of men grew silent as the rebellious spaceman faced Coxine.
“You get five hundred credits,” snarled Coxine. “Take it or leave it!”
“I want the same as Brooks and Attardi,” demanded Bates.
Quicker than the eye could follow, Coxine rose and smashed the man in the face with a giant fist. Bates dropped to the deck like a stone. Coxine glared at the rest of the crew.
“The next crawler that thinks he’s not getting his fair share,” he snarled, “will get a trip in space for his share!” He glanced down at the unconscious man and jerked his thumb toward the hatch. “Get him out of here!”
Two men dragged the unconscious man away and threw a bucket of cold water on him. He woke up, snatched at his share of the credits, and disappeared from the room.
The pirate captain continued reading the list of names, arbitrarily, handing out various amounts of the stolen money as he saw fit.
Standing in the rear of the messroom, hidden by the other members of the crew, Tom realized that to step in plain sight of Wallace and Simms for his share would mean instant betrayal. He had to make his move now, and with most of the crew mustered together in the messroom, it was his one chance for success.
Gripping the stolen paralo-ray gun in his jacket pocket, he slipped out of the messroom unnoticed and headed for the radar bridge.
As he raced up the companionway he could hear the laughter of the men below decks as one by one they received their shares. His name would be called soon. Heart pounding, he stopped outside the radar hatch, pulled the paralo-ray gun from his jacket, and taking a deep breath opened the hatch.
Joe Brooks was seated in front of the scanner counting his share greedily and glancing occasionally at the finger of light that swept across the green globe. When Tom opened the hatch, he looked up and smiled.
“Hiya, Kid,” he said. “Coxine’s all right. I got a thousand just for picking up that ship on the radar. How much did you collect?”
“This,” said Tom. He shoved the paralo-ray gun into Brooks’ stomach. The man gulped and finally found his voice.
“Say, what is this? A gag? Where did you get that paralo-ray?” Then suddenly he shoved the bundle of notes in his pocket. “Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not going to steal my share!”
“I don’t want your money!” said Tom coldly. “Get into that locker and keep your mouth shut, or I’ll blast you!”
“Locker? Say, what’s the matter with you? You gone space happy?”
“Get in there,” growled Tom. At the look on the cadet’s face, Brooks rose quickly and stepped into the locker. Tom slammed the door and locked it. Then, locking the passageway hatch, he turned to the radar scanner. Working quickly with deft hands, he opened the casing around the delicate instrument and began disconnecting the major terminals. Studying the complicated tangle of connections, he wished that he had as much knowledge of radar as Roger.
He finally found the wires he wanted and separated them from the other connections. He began replacing them, altering the terminals. After checking his work, to make sure it would not short-circuit, he grabbed the intercom and began taking it apart. Sweat beaded his forehead. Time was short. Soon Coxine would miss him and come looking for him. He had to complete his job before that happened.
After moments that seemed like hours he was ready. Using one of the intercom relays he began tapping out a message in Morse code on an exposed wire from the scanner. He looked at the radar scanner and watched it flash white static lines each time he touched the wires. Carefully he tapped out a message.
“…emergency…attention…Corbett…Space Cadet…aboard…Coxine…pirate…ship�
��space quadrant…B…section…twenty…three…”
Over and over he repeated the desperate message, hoping against hope that someone would be scanning space and the interference would show up on their radar.
“…emergency…attention…Corbett…Space Cadet—”
* * * *
“Captain Strong!” Roger’s voice came shrieking over the ship’s intercom. “Captain! Quick! I’m picking up a message from Tom!”
“What?” cried the Solar Guard officer. “Nail it! I’m coming up!”
Scrambling up the ladder to the radar bridge from the control deck, Captain Strong rushed over to the scanner and watched eagerly as blinking flashes washed out the background of the screen.
Slowly, at times unevenly, the message flashed and the two spacemen read it with gladdening hearts. Strong made a careful note of the position while Roger continued to read the flashes. Turning to the astrogation panel, the Solar Guard captain quickly plotted a course that would bring them to Tom’s position.
Endlessly, during the past few days, Strong, Roger, and Astro had swept space in a wide arc around the asteroid belt, hoping to pick up just such a signal. Now, with the position of the Avenger in his hands, Strong grabbed for the intercom.
“Attention, power deck!” yelled Strong. “We’ve just picked up a message from Tom. He’s given us his position, so stand by for a course change.”
“Yeee-eooow!” roared Astro. “I knew he’d do it.”
“He’s not in the clear yet. We’ve only got his position. We don’t know how we’re going to get him away from Coxine yet.”
“Ready to change course, sir,” said Astro.
“Three degrees on the down-plane of the ecliptic, and fifty-four degrees to starboard. Full space speed, Astro! Pile it on!”
“Aye, aye, sir!” replied Astro. “I’ll make this wagon’s tail so hot it’ll blast at double speed!”
“You’d better, you Venusian ape!” cried Roger. “It’s the least you can do for Tom!”
“Stow it, Manning,” growled Astro good-naturedly, “or I’ll stick some of your hot air in the jets for extra power!”
The Tom Corbett Space Cadet Megapack: 10 Classic Young Adult Sci-Fi Novels Page 46
