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

by Norton, Andre

  Something on the opposite side of the ship caught his eye. Miles’ space suit hung on its rack, the heavy fish-bowllike space helmet beside it in its open locker. Roger’s heart skipped a beat as he noticed the holster for a paralo-ray gun nearby. But the large flap was closed and he could not see if it held a gun.

  The young cadet moved away from the protection of the locker and started toward the space suit. He moved slowly, watching the upper deck where he figured Miles would be at the control board, operating the ship.

  Suddenly Miles appeared above him, walking across the open control deck with a clip board in his hand, making a standard check of the many instruments. Before Roger could find a hiding place, Miles saw the cadet. He drew his paralo-ray gun quickly, firing with the speed of a practiced hand. Roger dove toward the space suit and wrenched open the holster but found it empty. Miles was behind him now, running down the ladder.

  Roger spun around, darted to the ladder leading to the power deck, and just missed being hit by Miles’ second shot. He jumped the ten feet to the power deck and darted behind the huge bank of atomic motors.

  Miles came down the ladder slowly, gun leveled, eyes searching the deck. He stopped with his back to the rocket motors and called, “All right, Manning, come on out. If you come out without any trouble, I won’t freeze you. I’ll just tie you up again.”

  Roger was silent, gripping the wrench tightly and praying for a chance to strike. Miles still remained in one position, protected by the motor housing.

  “I’m going to count five, Manning!” he shouted. “Then I’ll hunt you down and freeze you solid.”

  Gripping the wrench tightly and raising it above his head, Roger eased out from his hiding place and slipped across the floor lightly. He was within four feet of Miles when the black-suited spaceman spun around and stepped back quickly. “Sucker,” he snarled, and fired.

  Roger stood motionless, his arm still raised, the wrench falling to the deck. Miles stuck his face close to Roger’s head and said, “I don’t know how you got here, but it doesn’t make any difference now. In a little while you and your pal, Corbett, are going for a swim out in space.”

  Holding Roger by the arm, he tipped the boy over and lowered him to the deck. Roger’s arm stuck up like the branch of a tree. Miles stood over him, flipped on the neutralizer charge of the gun, and fired again, releasing Roger from the paralyzing effect of the ray.

  The young cadet began to shake violently and through his chattering teeth he muttered a space oath. Miles only grinned.

  “Just wanted you to make yourself comfortable, Manning,” he said. He flipped the gun to direct charge again and pointed it at the boy. Seeing it was useless to try and jump the burly spaceman, Roger relaxed and stretched out on the deck. Miles fired again calmly, and after testing the effect of the ray with his toe, he turned to the ladder.

  As the spaceman climbed back to the control deck, Roger, though in a paralyzed state, could hear the communicator loud-speaker paging Miles.

  * * * *

  “Come in, Quent! This is Ross! Come in!”

  Tom Corbett sat bound and gagged in the copilot’s chair of the black ship, listening to Miles call again and again over the audioceiver. The fact that Miles was identifying himself as Ross puzzled the young cadet and he wondered if it was an alias. Tom was even more puzzled when Miles addressed the person he was calling as Quent.

  “This is Ross! Acknowledge, Quent! Come in!”

  Static spluttered over the loud-speaker and then a clear, harsh voice that was a perfect imitation, answered, “I read you, Ross,” it said. “Where are you?”

  Tom watched as Miles made a hasty check on the astrogation chart. “Space quadrant four,” he replied. “Chart C for Charley! Where are you?”

  “Same space quadrant, but on chart B for Baker,” came the reply. “I think we can make visual contact on radar in above five minutes. Make the usual radar signal for identification. O.K.?”

  “Good!” the Space Knight pilot replied. “What course are you on?”

  There was a pause and then the voice answered, “South southwest. Speed, emergency maximum.”

  “Very well. I will adjust course to meet you. But what’s the hurry?” asked Tom’s captor.

  “Better get out of space as soon as possible.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  Tom listened intently. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize the charts and space quadrants he had heard mentioned. He knew the quadrants by heart, and knew that he was close to the asteroid belt. But each quadrant had at least a dozen or more charts, each one taking in a huge area of space.

  “Is Brett with you?” asked the voice over the audioceiver.

  “No. I’ll tell you about it when we get together. All the rockets in space broke loose up there on Titan for a while.”

  “What do you mean? Hey! I think I just picked you up on my radar!” said the voice over the loud-speaker. “Give me the identification signal.”

  Tom watched Miles go to the radarscope and make a minute adjustment. The voice came over the loud-speaker again. “That’s you, all right. Cut back to minimum speed and I’ll maneuver to your space lock.”

  “Very well,” replied the spaceman on the Space Knight.

  He cut the rockets and in a matter of minutes the ship was bumped heavily as contact was made. The voice over the communicator announced the two space vessels had been coupled. “Open your air lock and come aboard.”

  “You come aboard my ship,” said Miles. “We’ve got the stuff here.”

  “O.K. But I have to go below and wake up that jerk, Manning.”

  “Wake him up?”

  “Yeah. I got him frozen.”

  “All right, make it snappy.”

  Miles turned to look at Tom, a sneer on his face. “I’m giving you a break, Corbett,” he said. “You’re going to swim with your cadet buddy. You’ll have company!”

  Gagged, Tom could only glare his hatred at the black-suited spaceman. In a moment he heard the air lock open below and then footsteps clattered up the ladder to the control deck.

  The hatch opened and Roger stumbled inside. He saw Tom immediately and yelled, “Tom! What are—” Suddenly he stopped. He looked at the man standing beside Tom and gasped in astonishment.

  Tom watched the hatch as Roger’s captor stepped inside. What he saw made him twist around in his chair and stare at the man beside him, utterly bewildered.

  “Twins!” cried Roger. “Identical twins.”

  The man stepped through the hatch and walked over to his brother. They shook hands and slapped each other on the back.

  “What happened to Charley, Ross?” asked Quent Miles.

  “Just a minute, Quent,” replied his brother. He turned and grinned at Tom and Roger. “Surprised, huh? Don’t let it bother you. We’ve been driving people crazy ever since we were born. Does this tell you how we won the race?”

  “T-t-twin pilots,” stuttered Tom in amazement. “And twin ships?”

  “Exactly.” Ross laughed. “Pretty smart, eh?”

  “Never mind them now,” snarled Quent. “I’ve been sitting up there on that asteroid rock talking to myself. What happened to Charley?”

  “Take it easy, will you, Quent?” said Ross. “I want to have some fun.” He turned to Manning. “Untie Corbett and get on the other side of the deck. Have yourselves a nice long talk before you take your last walk.”

  Roger slowly bent over to untie Tom, muttering a space oath under his breath. The two brothers retired to the opposite side of the control deck and sat down. Ross kept his paralo-ray pistol in his hand and never once took his eyes off the two cadets.

  “Well, what happened?” demanded Quent. “What are you doing here with Corbett and where in the blazes is Charley?”

  “Charley is back on Titan, and probably dead,” replied Ross easily. “He wouldn’t pay any attention to us when we suggested plugging up the old tunnels when we started mining that uranium, so the o
xygen which we were sucking off from the main screen supply took too much. The screens started to go. Practically the whole city is flooded with ammonia gas and it’s being abandoned.”

  Roger and Tom stood quietly, listening, and when Roger heard the news he turned to Tom with a questioning look on his face. Tom merely nodded grimly.

  “But what are you doing here with this load of pitchblende?” Quent persisted.

  “Everything would have been all right, even with the screens letting go,” explained Ross, “if it hadn’t been for Corbett and that big jerk Astro. They followed me out to the warehouse and down into the mine. Good thing we caught them, or we’d be on our way to a prison asteroid right now.”

  Quent glared over at Tom. “And Charley spilled the beans about the whole thing, eh?”

  “Not exactly, but the Solar Guard knows enough to be suspicious,” replied Ross. “We had some trouble with the radiation-detection gear and wanted to haul it out to the hide-out for Manning to check. We decided to bring out as much of the stuff as we had mined, and when we caught Corbett and Astro snooping around, we made them load the ship. Corbett, here, got smart and Astro escaped. In the fight, Charley fell out of the ship. I don’t know if he got away or not.”

  “Do we have a whole shipload of the stuff?” asked Quent.

  Ross grinned. “About two million credits’ worth.”

  Quent rubbed his hands together. “We’re in clover.” He laughed and slapped his brother on the back. “Well, I suppose the Solar Guard is looking for us by now?”

  Ross grinned. “Right. So we pull the old trick, eh? We have two very likely prospects right there.” He pointed to Roger and Tom.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” snapped Roger.

  “You’ll find out, squirt,” sneered Quent Miles.

  “Wait a minute, Quent,” said Ross. “I just thought of something. No one knows there are two of us, except these two punks here. We can’t work the old gag. We can only use one of them.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Simple. The Solar Guard thinks Manning took it on the lam from Ganymede, right?”

  Quent nodded.

  “Well, we take Manning, dress him up in one of our outfits and stick him aboard the empty ship alongside. The ship blows up, and should they find anything of Manning, he’ll be dressed like you, or me, and that will end the situation right there. Later, we can dump Corbett out in a space suit with a little oxygen, and write a note, sticking it in his glove. When they find him, they’ll think he got away from Quent Miles, and when his oxygen gave out, wrote the note giving all the details. And who can say No, since Quent Miles, as such, will be dead?”

  “End to the affair!” shouted Quent. “That’s perfect.”

  The audioceiver behind them crackled into life, and there was a clear, piercing signal, a sign that an emergency transmission was taking over all channels. The signal continued until the clear, strong voice of Commander Walters flooded the control deck of the ship.

  “Attention! Attention! This is Commander Walters of the Solar Guard! Attention all Solar Guard units in space quadrants one through seven—repeat, all ships in quadrants one through seven. This is emergency alert for the rocket ship Space Knight, believed to be heading for the asteroid belt. All ships are to institute an immediate search of quadrants one through seven for the Space Knight and arrest any and all persons aboard. Repeat. All ships.…”

  Ross Miles rose up and snapped off the audioceiver. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “What about them?” asked Quent, pointing to Roger and Tom. “Will we have time to—?”

  “Plenty of time,” said Ross coldly. “Blast ‘em now.”

  “With pleasure,” replied Quent Miles, taking his gun from his holster.

  “Jump, Roger!” shouted Tom.

  Both boys threw themselves sideways as Miles leveled his gun.

  Tom plunged headlong through the hatch door and scrambled down the ladder. Roger tried to follow, but Quent fired as Roger started to jump feet first through the hatch. His body became rigid as he tumbled through the hatch. Tom looked up just in time to break his unit mate’s fall, but seeing that it would be useless to stay with him, left him on the deck and turned to flee through the depths of the black ship.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Never mind, Manning!” shouted Quent Miles as he jumped past Roger’s body. “We’ve got to find Corbett. Take the starboard ladder; I’ll take the port. Search all the way aft to the exhaust tubes if you have to!”

  Ross nodded quickly, hefted his ray gun, and moved down the opposite ladder.

  Tom watched both of them come down like twin devils, hands holding the ray guns as steady as rocks. The cadet hid behind the open door leading to the lower cargo holds. Ross was the nearer of the two, walking like a cat, slowly, ready to spring or fire at the slightest movement. Tom quickly saw that if he jumped Ross, Quent would be on him in seconds. His only chance lay in their passing him, giving him the opportunity to return to the control deck and search for a ray gun for himself. And if that failed, at least he could call Commander Walters.

  Ross crept closer. Tom crouched tensely. Should Ross see him, Tom would have to make an attempt to knock him out and get the ray gun before Quent could do anything.

  “Careful, Quent!” called Ross as he moved toward the open hatch.

  “You too,” replied his brother. “This kid is plenty smart.”

  Tom breathed a silent prayer. Ross was now opposite the door. Should the black-suited spaceman decide to look behind it, Tom would be at his mercy.

  Ross stopped beside the door and hesitated a moment.

  “Hey, Ross!” Quent called, and Ross turned away from the door. “I think I hear something down inside the hold. Slip down the ladder a little way and cover me. I’ll go down inside and look around. He must be down here somewhere, and if you guard the door, he can’t get out.”

  Ross grinned. “Like flushing quail in Venus jungles,” he said, moving away from the door and down into the hold where the lead boxes filled with uranium pitchblende were stored.

  Tom could scarcely suppress a loud sigh of relief at his narrow escape. After a moment he peered cautiously around the edge of the door, and seeing the way clear to the control deck, ran back to the ladder. He paused at Roger’s inert form and bent over, his lips close to the paralyzed cadet’s ear.

  “I’m going to try and find a ray gun,” he whispered quickly. “If I can’t, then I’m going to try and get in touch with Commander Walters or the Solar Guard patrols.”

  He patted the blond-haired cadet on the shoulder and raced up the ladder to the control deck. Once inside, he barred the door to the rest of the ship and began a frantic search of the many lockers and drawers. But it was fruitless. He could find no ray gun or weapon of any kind. Desperate, knowing that Ross and Quent would return to the control deck when they had searched the rest of the ship, Tom turned and scrambled up the ladder to the radar deck.

  Again, barring the door behind him, he sat before the audioceiver and began calling the Polaris.

  “This is Cadet Corbett aboard rocket ship Space Knight in quadrant four, chart C for Charley. Corbett aboard spaceship Space Knight in quadrant four, chart C for Charley! Come in, Commander Walters! Come in!”

  Tom spun the dials on the audioceiver desperately, ranging over every circuit and repeating his cry. “This is Cadet Corbett! I am being held prisoner with Cadet Roger Manning aboard the spaceship Space Knight in space quadrant four, chart C for Charley.…”

  Suddenly the hum of the generators stopped and the glow of the tubes in the audioceiver died. Without a second’s hesitation, Tom spun around and lunged for the door leading back to the control deck.

  “They must have shut off the power,” he decided. “When they didn’t find me down below, they guessed that I came this way.”

  He raced through the control deck and down the ladder to the starboard companionway. If he could only get to the ship al
ongside!

  He chided himself for not thinking of it before and darted toward the air lock that coupled the two ships together in space.

  He turned a corner in the companionway and saw the door to the coupling chamber ahead. It was open. He dashed inside.

  “Greetings, Corbett!” sneered Ross Miles. He stood just inside the doorway, the ray gun leveled at Tom.

  “We figured you’d get around to thinking about the other ship sooner or later,” said Quent behind him, jamming the ray gun in his back. “So we just came here and waited for you.”

  “Go get the other one, Quent,” said Ross. Jerking Tom sideways into the coupling chamber, he rammed his gun into the curly-haired cadet’s stomach. “I’ll get this guy fixed aboard the other ship, and then set the firing chambers so they’ll blow up.”

  “What are we going to do with Manning?” asked Quent.

  “We’ll figure that out later. Hurry up! Corbett probably called the Solar Guard.”

  “That’s right, I did, Miles,” said Tom. “They’re probably closing in on you right now.”

  “Is that so?” snarled Quent. “Well, it’s too bad you won’t be alive to say hello to them.”

  * * * *

  “I want every pound of thrust you have on that power deck, Astro,” roared Commander Walters into the intercom. “We just received word from a freighter that picked up an S O S from Tom aboard the Space Knight.”

  Steve Strong and Kit Barnard sat in the pilot and copilot’s chairs on the control deck of the Polaris and watched the needle of the accelerometer climb as Astro poured on the power in answer to Walters’ command.

  “If I know Astro,” said Strong, “you’ll probably get the fastest ride you’ve ever had short of hyperdrive, Kit.”

  Kit Barnard gulped as he watched the needle. “I see what you mean,” he said.

  Walters strode up and down the deck behind the two veteran spacemen, a scowl on his face. “By the stars,” he rumbled, “this is the most incredible thing I’ve run up against in all my years in space!”