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

by Norton, Andre

  “No, thanks!” said Roger. “I’d rather sit here.”

  “Wait a minute, Roger,” said Tom. “We’re on leave, remember? And it’s only a short hop to Venus.”

  “Yeah, hotshot,” added Astro. “We’ll get to Venus faster than the Venus Lark, and save money besides.”

  “O.K.,” said Roger. “I guess I can take him for a little while.”

  Strong suppressed a smile. Roger’s reluctance to go with Connel was well founded. Any cadet within hailing distance of the hard-bitten spaceman was likely to wind up with a bookful of demerits.

  “Are you on an assignment, sir?” asked Tom.

  “Vacation,” said Strong. “Four weeks of fishing at Commander Walters’ cabin at Sweet Water Lakes.”

  “If you pass through New Chicago,” said Tom, “you would be welcome to stop in at my house. Mom and Dad would be mighty happy to meet you. And I think Billy, my kid brother, would flip a rocket.”

  “Thank you, Tom. I might do that if I have time.” He looked at his watch. “You three had better hurry. I’d advise taking a jetcopter back to the Academy. You might not make it if you wait for a monorail.”

  “We’ll do that, sir,” said Tom.

  The three boys threw their gear into the waiting cab and piled in. Strong watched them roar away, frowning in thought. An S.D. priority, the highest priority in space, was used only by special couriers on important missions for one of the delegates. He shrugged it off. “Getting to be as suspicious as an old space hen,” he said to himself. “Fishing is what I need. A good fight with a trout instead of a space conspiracy!”

  CHAPTER 3

  “Blast off—minus—five—four—three—two—one—zero!”

  As the main drive rockets blasted into life, Tom fell back in his seat before the control panel of the Polaris and felt the growing thrust as the giant ship lifted off the ground, accelerating rapidly. He kept his eyes on the teleceiver screen and saw Space Academy fall away behind them. On the power deck Astro lay strapped in his acceleration cushion, his outstretched hand on the emergency booster rocket switch should the main rockets fail before the ship could reach the free fall of space. On the radar bridge Roger watched the far-flung stars become brighter as the rocket ship hurtled through the dulling layers of the atmosphere.

  As soon as the ship reached weightless space, Tom flipped on the gravity generators and put the Polaris on her course to Venus. Almost immediately the intercom began to blast.

  “Now hear this!” Major Connel’s voice roared. “Corbett, Manning, and Astro! I don’t want any of your space-blasted nonsense on this trip! Get this ship to Venusport in the shortest possible time without burning out the pump bearings. And, Manning—!”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the blond-haired cadet.

  “If I so much as hear one wisecrack between you and that overgrown rocket jockey, Astro, I’ll log both of you twenty-five demerits!”

  “I understand, sir,” acknowledged Roger lazily. “I rather appreciate your relieving me of the necessity of speaking to that space ape!”

  Listening to their voices on the control deck, Tom grinned and waited expectantly. He wasn’t disappointed.

  “Ape!” came a bull-like roar from the power deck. “Why, you skinny moth-eaten piece of space junk—”

  “Cadet Astro!”

  “Yes, sir?” Astro was suddenly meek.

  “If you say one more word, I’ll bury you in demerits!”

  “But, sir—”

  “No buts!” roared Connel. “And you, Manning—!”

  “Yes, sir?” chimed in Roger innocently.

  “Keep your mouth shut!”

  “Very well, sir,” said Roger.

  “Corbett?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I’m putting you in charge of monitoring the intercom. If those two space idiots start jabbering again, call me. That’s an order! I’ll be in my quarters working.” Connel switched off abruptly.

  “You hear that, fellows?” said Tom. “Knock it off.”

  “O.K., Tom,” replied Roger, “just keep him out of my sight.”

  “That goes for me, too,” added Astro. “Ape! Just wait till I—”

  “Astro!” Tom interrupted sharply.

  “O.K., O.K.,” groaned the big cadet.

  Glancing over the panel once more and satisfying himself that the ship was functioning smoothly, Tom sighed and settled back in his seat, enjoying the temporary peace and solitude. It had been a tough year, filled with intensive study in the quest for an officer’s commission in the Solar Guard. Space Academy was the finest school in the world, but it was also the toughest. The young cadet shook his head, remembering a six-weeks’ grind he, Roger, and Astro had gone through on a nuclear project. Knowing how to operate an atomic rocket motor was one thing, but understanding what went on inside the reactant pile was something else entirely. Never had the three cadets worked harder, or more closely together. But Astro’s thorough, practical knowledge of basic nucleonics, combined with Roger’s native wizardry at higher mathematics, and his own understanding of the theory, had enabled them to pull through with a grade of seventy-two, the highest average ever made by a cadet unit not specializing in physics.

  As the ship rocketed smoothly through the airless void of space toward the misty planet of Venus, Tom made another quick but thorough check of the panel, and then returned to his reflections on the past term. It had been particularly difficult since they had missed many valuable hours of classroom work and study because of their adventure on the new colony of Roald (as described in The Space Pioneers), but they had come through somehow. He shook his head wondering how they had made it. Forty-two units had washed out during the term. Instead of getting easier, the courses of study were getting more difficult all the time, and in his speech on the parade grounds, Commander Walters had promised—

  “Emergency!”

  Roger’s voice over the intercom brought Tom out of his reverie sharply.

  “All hands,” continued the cadet on the radar bridge hurriedly, “secure your stations and get to the jet-boat deck on the double! Emergency!”

  As the sharp clang of the emergency alarm rang out, Tom did not stop to question Roger’s sudden order. Neutralizing all controls, he leaped for the hatch leading below. Taking the ladder four steps at a time, Tom saw Major Connel tear out of his quarters. The elder spaceman dived for the ladder himself, not stopping to ask questions. He was automatic in his reliance on the judgment of others. The few seconds spent in talk could mean the difference between life and death in space where you seldom got a second chance.

  Tom and Connel arrived on the jet-boat deck to find Astro already preparing the small space craft for launching. As they struggled into space suits, Roger appeared. In answer to their questioning looks, he explained laconically, “Unidentifiable object attached to ship on fin parallel to steering vanes. Thought we’d better go outside first and examine later.”

  Connel nodded his mute agreement, and thirty seconds later the tiny jet boat was blasting out of the escape lock into space.

  Circling around the ship to the stern, the jet boat, under Major Connel’s sure touch, stopped fifty feet from the still glowing, exhaust tubes. He and the three cadets stared out at a small metallic boxlike object attached to the underside of the stabilizer fin.

  “What do you suppose it is?” asked Astro.

  “I don’t know,” replied Roger, “but it sure doesn’t belong there. That’s why I rang the emergency on you.”

  “You were absolutely right, Manning,” asserted Connel. “If it’s harmless, we can always get back aboard and nothing’s been lost except a little time.” He rose from the pilot’s seat and stepped toward the hatch. “Come with me, Corbett. We’ll have a look. And bring the radiation counter along.”

  “Aye, aye, sir!”

  Tom reached into a near-by locker, and pulling out a small, rectangular box with a round hornlike grid in its face, plunged out of the hatch with Major Connel a
nd blasted across the fifty-foot gap to the stabilizer fin of the Polaris.

  Connel gestured toward the object on the fin. “See if she’s hot, Corbett.”

  The young cadet pressed a small button on the counter and turned the horn toward the mysterious box. Immediately the needle on the dial above the horn jumped from white to pink and finally red, quivering against the stop pin.

  “Hot!” exclaimed Tom. “She almost kicked the pin off!”

  “Get off the ship!” roared Connel. “It’s a fission bomb with a time fuse!”

  Tom dove at the box and tried to pull it off the stabilizer, but Major Connel grabbed him by the arm and wrenched him out into space.

  “You space-blasted idiot!” Connel growled. “That thing’s liable to go off any second! Get away from here!”

  With a mighty shove, the spaceman sent Tom flying out toward the jet boat and then jumped to safety himself. Within seconds he and the young cadet were aboard the jet boat again and, not stopping to answer Astro’s or Roger’s questions, he jammed his foot down hard on the acceleration lever, sending the tiny ship blasting away from the Polaris.

  Not until they were two miles away from the stricken rocket ship did Connel bring the craft to a stop. He turned and gazed helplessly at the gleaming hull of the Polaris.

  “So they know,” he said bitterly. “They’re trying to stop me from even reaching Venus.”

  The three cadets looked at each other and then at the burly spaceman, bewilderment in their eyes.

  “What’s this all about, sir?” Roger finally asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to tell you, Manning,” replied Connel. “Though I want to thank you for your quick thinking. How did you happen to discover the bomb?”

  “I was sighting on Regulus for a position check and Regulus was dead astern, so when I swung the periscope scanner around, I spotted that thing stuck to the fin. I didn’t bother to think about it, I just yelled.”

  “Glad you did,” nodded Connel and turned to stare at the Polaris again. “Now I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait until that bomb goes off.”

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?” asked Tom.

  “Not a blasted thing,” replied Connel grimly. “Thank the universe we shut off all power. If that baby had blown while the reactant was feeding into the firing chambers, we’d have wound up a big splash of nothing.”

  “This way,” commented Astro sourly, “it’ll just blast a hole in the side of the ship.”

  “We might be able to repair that,” said Tom hopefully.

  “There she goes!” shouted Roger.

  Staring out the windshield, they saw a sudden blinding flash of light appear over the stern section of the Polaris, a white-hot blaze of incandescence that made them flinch and crouch back.

  “By the craters of Luna!” exclaimed Connel.

  Before their eyes they saw the stabilizer fin melt and curl under the intense heat of the bomb. There was no sound or shock wave in the vacuum of space, but they all shuddered as though an overwhelming force had swept over them. Within seconds the flash was gone and the Polaris was drifting in the cold blackness of space! The only outward damage visible was the twisted stabilizer, but the boys realized that she must be a shambles within.

  “I guess we’ll have to wait a while before we go back aboard. There might be radioactivity around the hull,” Roger remarked.

  “I don’t think so,” said Tom. “The Polaris was still coasting when we left her. We cut out the drive rockets, but we didn’t brake her. She’s probably drifted away from the radioactivity already.”

  “Corbett’s right,” said Connel. “A hot cloud would be a hundred miles away by now.” He pressed down on the acceleration lever and the jet boat eased toward the ship. Edging cautiously toward the stern of the spaceship, they saw the blasted section of the fin already cooling in the intense cold of outer space.

  “Think I’d better call a Solar Guard patrol ship, sir?” asked Roger.

  “Let’s wait until we check the damage, Manning,” replied Connel.

  “Yeah,” chimed in Astro grimly, “if I can help it, I’m going to bring the Polaris in.” He paused and then added, “If I have to carry her on my back.”

  As soon as a quick check with the radiation counter showed them that the hull was free of radioactivity, Major Connel and the three cadets re-entered the ship.

  While the lack of atmosphere outside had dissipated the full force of the blast, the effect on the inside of the ship, where Earth’s air pressure was maintained, was devastating. Whole banks of delicate machinery were torn from the walls and scattered over the decks. The precision instruments of the inner hull showed no signs of leakage, and the oxygen-circulating machinery could still function on an auxiliary power hookup.

  Completing the quick survey of the ship, Major Connel realized that they would never be able to continue their flight to Venus and instructed Roger to contact the nearest Solar Guard patrol ship to pick them up.

  “The Polaris will have to be left in space,” continued Connel, “and a maintenance crew will be sent out to see if she can be repaired. If they decide it isn’t worth the labor, they’ll junk her here in space.”

  The faces of the three cadets fell.

  “But there’s no real damage on her power deck, sir,” said Astro. “And the hull is in good shape, except for the stabilizer fin and some of the stern plates. Why, sometimes a green Earthworm unit will crack a fin on their first touchdown.”

  “And the radar deck can be patched up easy, sir,” spoke up Roger. “With some new tubes and a few rolls of wire I could have her back in shape in no time.”

  “That goes for the control deck, too!” said Tom doggedly. Then, after a quick glance at his unit mates, he faced Connel squarely. “I think it goes without saying, sir, that we’d appreciate it very much if you could recommend that she be restored instead of junked.”

  Connel allowed himself a smile in the face of such obvious love for the ship. “You forget that to repair her out in space, the parts have to be hauled from Venus. But I’ll see what I can do. Meantime, Roger, see if you can’t get that patrol ship to give us a lift to Venusport. Tell the C.O. I’m aboard and on urgent official business.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Roger.

  “And,” continued the spaceman, noticing the downcast looks of Tom and Astro, “it wouldn’t hurt if you two started repairing as much as you can. So when the maintenance crew arrives, they won’t find her in such a mess.”

  “Yes, sir!” chorused the two cadets happily.

  Connel returned to his quarters and sat down heavily in the remains of his bunk, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Somehow, word had gotten out that he was going to check on the secret organization on Venus and someone had made a bold and desperate attempt to stop him before he could get started. It infuriated him to think that anyone would interrupt official business. As far as Connel was concerned, nothing came before official business. And he was doubly furious at the danger to the three cadets, who had innocently hitched a ride on what was almost a death ship. Someone was going to pay, Connel vowed, clenching his huge fists—and pay dearly.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Yeeooowww!”

  Roaring with jubilation and jumping high in the air at every other step, Astro raced out of the gigantic maintenance hangar at the Venusport spaceport and charged at his two unit mates waiting on the concrete apron.

  “Everything’s O.K.,” he yelled, throwing his arms around them. “The Polaris is going to be brought in for full repairs! I just saw the audiograph report from the maintenance chief!”

  Tom and Roger broke into loud cheers and pounded each other on the back.

  “Great Jupiter,” gasped Roger, “I feel as though I’ve been sitting up with a sick friend!”

  “Your friend’s going to make a full recovery,” asserted Astro.

  “Did you see Major Connel?” asked Tom.

  “Yeah,” said Astro. “I think he had a lot to do with it. I sa
w him talking to the head maintenance officer.”

  “Well, now that we’ve sweated the old girl through the crisis,” asserted Roger, “how’s about us concentrating on our vacation?”

  “Great,” agreed Tom. “This is your party, Astro. Lead the way.”

  The three cadets left the spaceport in a jet cab and rode happily into the city of Venusport. As they slid along the superhighway toward the first and largest of the Venusian cities, Astro pointed out the sights. Like slim fingers of glass, the towering Titan crystal buildings of the city arose before them, reaching above the misty atmosphere to catch the sunlight.

  “Where do we get our safari gear, Astro?” asked Roger.

  “In the secondhand shops along Spaceman’s Row,” replied the big Venusian. “We can get good equipment down there at half the price.”

  The cab turned abruptly off the main highway and began twisting through a section of the city shunned by the average Venusian citizen. Spaceman’s Row had a long and unsavory history. For ten square blocks it was the hide-out and refuge of the underworld of space. The grimy stores and shadowy buildings supplied the needs of the countless shadowy figures who lived beyond the law and moved as silently as ghosts.

  Leaving the jet cab, the three cadets walked along the streets, past the cheaply decorated store fronts and dingy hallways, until they finally came to a corner shop showing the universal symbol of the pawnshop: three golden balls. Tom and Roger looked at Astro who nodded, and they stepped inside.

  The interior of the shop was filthy. Rusted and worn space gear was piled in heaps along the walls and on dusty counters. An old-fashioned multiple neon light fixture cast an eerie blue glow over everything. Roger grimaced as he looked around. “Are you sure we’re in the right place, Astro?”

  Tom winked. Roger had a reputation for being fastidious.

  “This is it,” nodded Astro. “I know the old geezer that runs this place. Nice guy. Name’s Spike.” He turned to the back of the shop and bawled, “Hey, Spike! Customers!”

  Out of the gloomy darkness a figure emerged slowly. “Yeah?” The man stepped out into the pale light. He dragged one foot as he walked. “Whaddaya want?”